Nancy already like home.

Even now, however, Mr. Rogers would not talk terms. He drove them
about again, passing other houses, all happily and prosperously
occupied. He told Nancy about this family and that.

"What'd that house cost?" Bert would demand.

"Ah well, THAT. That belongs to Ingram, of the Ingram Thorn Coal
people, you know. I suppose Mr. Ingram has invested forty or fifty
thousand dollars in that place, in one way and another. The tennis
court--"

And so on and on. Presently they passed the pretty, unpretentious
club-house, built close to the water. A few light sails were
dipping and shaking on the bay, children were gathered in a little
knot beside an upturned canoe, on the shore. Several cars were
parked on the drive outside the club, and Nancy felt decidedly
self-conscious as she and Bert and the children walked onto the
awninged porch that was the tea room.

"Now this club belongs to the place," Mr. Rogers said, "You're
buying here--and I don't mind telling you, Mr. Bradley, that I
want you to buy here," he broke off to admit persuasively--
"because you and your wife are the sort of people we need here.
You won't find anything anywhere that is backed by the same
interest, you won't. However, about the club. Your buying here
makes you a member of this club----"

"Oh, is that SO!" Nancy exclaimed, in delighted surprise.