houses with
gardens as we came through."

"We like this very well," said Julia Cloud with her old patient smile
and the hurt flush that always accompanied her answers to her sister's
contempt. "Cherry doesn't seem to mind washing windows. She likes to
keep them bright. We find it very comfortable and light and airy. Come
inside, and see how pretty it is."

Once inside, Ellen Robinson was somewhat awed with the strangeness of
the rooms and the beauty of the furnishings, but all she said after a
prolonged survey was: "Um! No paper on the wall! That's queer, isn't
it? And the chimney right in the room! It looks as though they didn't
have plaster enough to go around."

Leslie took the children up-stairs to wash their faces and freshen up,
and Julia Cloud led her sister to the lovely guest-room that was
always in perfect order.

"Well, you certainly have things well fixed," said Ellen grudgingly.
"What easy little stairs! It's like child's play going up. I suppose
that's one consolation for having such a little playhouse affair to
live in; you don't have to climb up far. Well, we've come to stay two
days if you want us. Herbert said he could spare that much time off,
and we're going to stop in Thayerville on the way back and see his
folks a couple of days; and that'll be a week. Now, if you don't want
us, say so, and we'll go on to-night. It isn't as if we couldn't go
when we like, you know."

But Julia Cloud was genuinely glad to see her sister, and said so
heartily enough to satisfy even so jealous a nature as Ellen's; and so
presently they were walking about the pretty rooms together, and Ellen
was taking in all the beauties of the home.

"And this is your bedroom!" she paused in the middle of the
rose-and-gray room, and looked about her, taking in every little
detail with an eye that would put it away for remembrance long
afterwards. "Well, they certainly have feathered your nest well!" she
declared as her eyes rested on the luxury everywhere. "Though I don't
like that painted furniture much myself," she said as she glanced at
the French gray enamel of the bed; "but I suppose it's all right if
that's the kind of thing you like. Was it some of their old furniture
from California?"

"Oh, no," said Julia Cloud quickly, the pretty flush coming in her
cheeks. "Everything was bought new except a few little bits of
mahogany down-stairs. We had such fun choosing it, too. Don't you like
my furniture? I love it. I hover