"And what's that?" asked Bert, smiling, but not quite at his ease.

"Now, you wait a few minutes, Mr. Business Man!" Mr. Rogers said,
"What you think, and what I think, doesn't count much beside what
this little lady thinks. She's got to live in the house, and if
SHE likes it, why I guess you and I can come to terms!"

Nancy threw her husband a glance full of all amused tolerance at
this, but in her secret soul she rather liked it.

They went upstairs, where there were hardwood floors, and two
bathrooms, and mirrors in the bathroom doors. There was another
bathroom in the attic, and a fourth upstairs in the garage, with
two small bedrooms in each place. They must expect us to keep four
maids, Nancy hastily computed.

There was an upstair porch; "To shake a rug, Mrs. Bradley, or to
dry your hair, or for this young lady's supper," said the
delightful Mr. Rogers. A back stairway led down to tempting
culinary regions; a sharp exclamation burst from Nancy at the
sight of the great ice box, and the tiled sinks.

They walked about the plot, a large one. At the back, beside the
garage, they could look over a small but healthy hedge to more
beach, clustered with unusual shells at low tide, and the
straggling outskirts of the village. From the front, they looked
straight down a wide tree-shaded street, that lost itself in a
peaceful vista of great trees and vine-smothered stone walls.
"Holly Court" was quiet, it was naturally isolated, it seemed to