oon they found the house, but Kate stopped short on sight of it.

"Adam, there has been little in life to make me particular," she said,
"but I draw the line at that house. I would go crazy in a house
painted bright red with brown and blue decoration. It should be
prohibited by law. Let us hunt up the Widder Holt and see how her
taste in colour runs."

"The joke is on you," said Adam, when they had found the house.

It was near the school, on a wide shady street across which big maples
locked branches. There was a large lot filled with old fruit trees and
long grass, with a garden at the back. The house was old and low,
having a small porch in front, but if it ever had seen paint, it did
not show it at that time. It was a warm linty gray, the shingles of
the old roof almost moss-covered.

"The joke IS on me," said Kate. "I shall have no quarrel with the
paint here, and will you look at that?"

Adam looked where Kate pointed across the street, and nodded.

"That ought to be put in a gold frame," he said.

"I think so, too," said Kate. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised if I
stay where I can see it."

They were talking of a deep gully facing the house and running to a
levee where the street crossed. A stream ran down it, dipped under a
culvert, turned sharply, and ran away to a distant river, spanning
which they could see the bridge. Tall old forest trees lined the
banks, shrubs and bushes grew in a thicket. There were swaying,
clambering vines and a babel of bird notes over the seed and berry
bearing bushes.

"Let's go inside, and if we agree, then we will get some water and feed
the horse and eat our lunch over there," said Kate.

"Just the thing!" said young Adam. "Come and we will proceed to the
residence of Mrs. Holt and investigate her possibilities. How do you
like that?"

"That is fine," said Kate gravely.

"It is," said Adam, promptly, "because it is Ma. And whatever is Ma, is
right."

"Good for you!" cried Kate. "I am going to break a Bates record and
kiss you good-bye, when you go. I probably shan't have another in
years. Come on."

They walked up the grassy wooden walk, stepped on the tiny,
vine-covered porch, and lifted and dropped a rusty old iron knocker.
Almost at once the door opened, to reveal a woman of respectable
appearance, a trifle past middle age. She made Kate think of dried
sage because she had a dried-out look and her complexion, hair, and
eyes were all that colo