LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

damp, musty old place. I'm shivering myself to pieces."

      "Oh, it isn't cold," said Laura Russell; "and while we're here, let's go through the house."

      "Yes," said Marian; "examine it carefully, lest some of its numerous advantages should escape your notice. Observe the hardwood floors, the magnificent mahogany stair-rail, and the lofty ceilings!"

      The old floors were creaky, worm-eaten, and dusty; the stair-rail was in a most dilapidated condition, and the ceilings were low and smoky; so Marian scored her points.

      "But it is antique," said Ethel Holmes, with the air of an auctioneer. "Ah, ladies, what would you have? It is a fine specimen of the Colonial Empire period, picked out here and there with Queen Anne. The mantels, ah,—the mantels are dreams in marble."

      "Nightmares in painted wood, you mean," said Lillian.

      "But so roomy and expansive," went on Ethel. "And the wall-papers! Note the fine stage of complete dilapidation left by the moving finger of Time."

      "The wall-papers are all right," said Patty. "They look as if they'd peel off easily. Come on upstairs."

      The chambers were large, low, and rambling; and the house, in its best days, must have been an interesting specimen of its type. But after a short investigation, Patty was as firmly convinced as Marian that its charms could not offset its drawbacks.

      "I've seen enough of this moated grange," cried Patty. "Come on, girls, we're going back to tea, right, straight, smack off."

      "There's no pleasing some folks," grumbled Ethel. "Here's an ancestral pile only waiting for somebody to ancestralise it. You could make it one of the Historic Homes of Vernondale, and you won't even consider it for a minute."

      "I'll consider it for a minute," said Patty, "if that will do you any good, but not a bit longer; and as the minute is nearly up, I move we start."

      CHAPTER IV

      BOXLEY HALL

      After consultation with various real estate agents, and after due consideration of the desirable houses they had to offer, Mr. Fairfield came to the conclusion that the Bigelow house, which Marian had suggested, was perhaps the most attractive of any.

      And so, one afternoon, a party of very interested people went over to look at it.

      The procession was headed by Patty and Marian, followed by Mr. Fairfield and Aunt Alice, while Frank and his father brought up the rear. But as they were going out of the Elliotts' front gate, Laura Russell came flying across the street.

      "Where are all you people going?" she cried. "I know you're going to look at a house. Which one?"

      "The Bigelow house," said Marian, "and I'm almost sure Uncle Fred will decide to take it. Come on with us; we're going all through it."

      "No," said Laura, looking disappointed, "I don't want to go; and I don't want the Fairfields to live in that house anyway. If they would only look at that little cottage next-door to us, I know they'd like it ever so much better. Oh, please, Mr. Fairfield, won't you come over and look at it now? It's so pretty and cunning, and it has the loveliest garden and chicken-coop and everything."

      "I don't want a chicken-coop," said Patty, laughing; "I've no chickens, and I don't want any."

      "Our chickens are over there most of the time," said Laura.

      "Then, of course, we ought to have a coop to keep our neighbours' chickens in," said Mr. Fairfield; "and if this cottage is as delightful as Miss Russell makes it out, I think it's our duty at least to go and look at it. If the rest of you are willing, suppose we go over there first, and then if we should decide not to take it, we'll have time to investigate the Bigelow afterward".

      Marian looked so woe-begone that Patty laughed.

      "Cheer up, girl," she said; "there isn't one chance in a million of our taking that doll's house, but Laura will never give us a minute's peace until we go and look at it; so we may as well go now, and get it over."

      "All right," said Marian; and Patty, with her two girl friends on either side of her, started in the direction of the cottage.

      But when they reached it, Mr. Fairfield exclaimed in amazement. "That little house?" he said. "Oh, I see; that's the chicken-coop you spoke of. Well, where is the house?"

      "This is the house," said Laura; "but, somehow, it does look smaller than usual; still, it's a great deal bigger inside."

      "No doubt," said Frank. "I've often noticed that the inside of a house is much larger than the outside. Of course, we can't all go in at once, but I'm willing to wait my turn. Who will go first?"

      "Very well, you may stay outside," said Laura. "I think the rest of us can all squeeze in at once, if we try."

      But Frank followed the rest of the party, and, passing through the narrow hall, they entered the tiny parlour.

      "I never was in such a crowded room," said Marian. "I can scarcely get my breath. I had no idea there were so many of us."

      "Well, you're not going to live here," said Laura. "There's room enough for just Patty and her father."

      "There is, if we each take a room to ourself," said Mr. Fairfield. "You may have this parlour, my daughter, and I'll take the library. Where is the library, Miss Russell?"

      "I think it has just stepped out," said Frank; "at any rate, it isn't on this floor; there's only this room, and the dining-room, and a kitchen cupboard."

      "Very likely the library is on the third floor," said Marian; "that would be convenient."

      "There isn't any third floor," explained Laura. "This is what they call a story-and-a-half house."

      "It would have to be expanded into a serial story, then, before it would do for us," said Mr. Fairfield. "We may not be such big people, but Patty and I have a pretty large estimate of ourselves, and I am sure we never could live in such a short-story-and-a-half as this seems to be."

      "Indeed, we couldn't, papa," said Patty. "Just look at this dining-room. I'm sure it's only big enough for one. We would have to have our meals alternately; you could have breakfast, and I would have dinner one day, and the next day we'd reverse the order."

      "Come, look at the kitchen, Patty," called out Frank; "or at least stick your head in; there isn't room for all of you. See the stationary tubs. Two of them, you see; each just the size of a good comfortable coffee-cup."

      "Just exactly," said Patty, laughing; "why, I never saw such a house. Laura Russell, what were you thinking of?"

      "Oh, of course, you could add to it," said Laura. "You could build on as many more rooms as you wanted, and you could run it up another story and a half, and that would make three stories; and I do want you to live near me."

      "We're sorry not to live near you, Miss Laura," said Mr. Fairfield; "but I can't see my way clear to do it unless you would move into this bandbox, and let us have your roomy and comfortable mansion next door."

      "Oh, there wouldn't be room for our family here," said Laura.

      "But you could build on a whole lot of rooms," said Frank, "and add enough stories to make it a sky-scraper; and put in an elevator, and it would be perfectly lovely."

      Laura laughed with the rest, and then, at Mrs. Elliott's suggestion, they all started back to the Bigelow house.

      "Now, this is something like," said Marian, as they went in at the gate and up the broad front walk.

      "Like what?" said Frank.

      "Like a home for the Fairfields. What shall you call it—Fairfield Hall, Fairfield Place, or what?"

      "I don't know," cried Patty, dashing up the veranda steps. "But isn't it a dear house! I feel at home here already. This big piazza will be lovely in warm weather. There's room for hammocks, and big chairs, and little tables, and everything."

      Inside, the house proved very attractive. The large square hall opened into a parlour on one side and a library on the other. Back of the library was a little conservatory, and beyond that a large, light dining-room with an open fireplace.

      "Here's

Скачать книгу