announced with much
distinctness, "My name is James Mandeville Norton."

"Well, James, I am glad to meet you. I see you are a fair-minded
person. Do you live in this neighborhood?"

James Mandeville pointed in the direction of the row of toy houses on
Pleasant Street, and said he lived over there.

"Then if they give me a fireplace, you and I will be neighbors."

They were standing in the door, just outside which, on the sidewalk,
was a velocipede. This James Mandeville now mounted with gravity. He
did not express a hope that she might come to live near him, but there
was friendliness in the tone in which he said good-by as he rode
away.

"Good-by Infinitesimal James," replied the lady.

"My name's James Mandeville," he called back.

In the course of a day or two the matter of the fireplace was adjusted
and the lease signed. Norah Pennington was the tenant's name, and her
references all the most timorous landlord could ask.

On the afternoon of the day on which the transaction was closed Miss
Pennington might have been seen walking along the Terrace, gazing
about with interested eyes.

"What dear old houses," she said to herself. "I am sure Marion will
like it here. This might be Doubting Castle, and there is Palace
Beautiful, a little out of repair."

She stood for a moment on the corner in the full blaze of the summer
sun. The happy courage of youth seemed to radiate from her. There was
a vitality, a sparkle in her glance, in the waves of her sunny hair,
in her smile, as with a slight gesture that embraced the Terrace, and
Pleasant Street, too, she said half aloud, "Good-by till September."

CHAPTER SECOND

WHAT SHALL WE CALL IT?

"And now what shall we call it?" Norah asked.

"Call it?" echoed Marion.

They sat on the rocks beside a mountain stream that filled the air
with its delicious murmur.

"Certainly, everything has to have a name. Shall it be _Carpenter and
Pennington, Dry-goods_?"

Marion removed the dark glasses she wore, turning a pair of serious
eyes upon her companion. "How absurd," she said.

"No," insisted Norah, taking the glasses and adjusting them on her own
nose, "not at all. It is businesslike. Can't you see it?--a large
black sign with gilt letters."

"Give me my glasses, and don't be silly. It is not to be a dry-goods'
store in the first place, and above all things let us be original. If
such signs are customary, ours must be different."

"Here speaks wisdom. H