"She likes him already. 'Milyer, you're blind as a bat."

"Well, if they like each other--it's the way of the world. It's been going on since Adam."

"It's simply ridiculous to have Margaret perking herself up for beaux."

"I guess you'll have to let the matter go Hoffman is well connected and a nice young fellow."

Yes, she had to let the matter go on. She was unnecessarily sharp with Margaret and pretended not to see; she was extremely ceremonious with the young man at first. She didn't mean to have him coming to tea on Sunday evenings, a fashion that still lingered. But Dolly was very good to the young lovers, and they had so many mutual friends. Then Margaret was quite shy, she hardly knew what to make of the attentions that were so reverent and sweet. She couldn't have discussed them with a single human being.

Mr. and Mrs. Underhill had called on their new cousins in Hammersley Street. And on Washington's Birthday he took the little girl and Ben over.

The street was still considered in the quality part of the town. The row was quite imposing, the stoops being high, the houses three stories and a half, with short windows just below the roof. The railing of the stoop was very ornate, the work around the front door and the fanlight at the top being of the old-fashioned decorative sort. They were ushered into the parlor by a young colored lad.

It was a very splendid room, the little girl thought, with a high, frescoed ceiling and a heavy cornice of flowers and leaves. The side walls were a light gray, but they were nearly covered with pictures.

The curtains were a dull blue and what we should call old gold, and swept the floor. There was a mirror from floor to ceiling with an extremely ornamental frame, the top forming a curtain cornice over the windows. At the end of the room was the same kind of cornice and curtains, but no gla.s.s. The carpet had a great medallion in the center and all kinds of arabesques and scrolls and flowers about it. The furniture was rather odd, divans, chairs, ottomans and queer-looking tables, and the little girl came to know afterward that two or three pieces had been in the royal palace of Versailles.

A very sweet, dark-eyed, dark-haired woman came through the curtain.

"I am Mrs. French," she said, in a soft tone, "and I am very glad to see you. Is this the little girl of whom I have heard so much? Be seated, please. Father is out, and he will be very sorry to miss you."

She dropped on an ottoman and drew the little girl toward her.

"Let me take off your hat and coat. There are some children who will be glad to see you. Mother will be up in a few moments. Do you know that I have been seriously considering a visit to you? Father and Eugene have talked so much about you."

"And your grandfather----"

"He is very well to-day. I was in his room reading to him. He will be pleased you have come."

Mrs. Bounett came in with her daughter, a rather tall, lanky girl of fifteen, very dark, and with a great mop of black hair that was tied at the back without being braided. She looked as if she had outgrown her dress.

This was Miss Luella. After a moment she came over to Ben, and asked him where he went to school, and if he had any pets. They had a squirrel and some guinea-pigs and a parrot that could talk everything. Didn't he want to see them?

Hanny looked eager as well.

"Can I take her?" asked Lu.

"The boys are down-stairs. Don't be rough."

It was rather dark. Lu caught Hanny in her arms and whisked her down to the dining-room. The boys were thirteen and eleven, and were playing checkers on the large dining-table. Everything looked so immensely big to Hanny. The shelves of the sideboard were full of gla.s.s and silver and queer old blue china; the chairs had great high backs and were leather-covered.

"We want to see the guinea-pigs," said Lu. "But I'll take her out to see the parrots first."

There was a fat colored woman in the kitchen who suggested Aunt Mary.

They went through to a little room under the great back porch, made in the end of the area.

There were two parrots and a beautiful white paroquet. Polly was sulky.

"Mind your business!" was all she would say. Dan soon began to be quite sociable, declaring "He was glad to see them, and would like to have some grapes."

"You shut up!" screamed Polly.

"I'll talk as much as I like."

"No, you won't. I'll come and choke you."

"Do if you dare!"

Then they shrieked at each other with the vigor of fighting cats. Polly rustled around her cage as if she would be out the next moment. Hanny clung to Lu and was pale with fright.

"They can't get out. They'd tear each other to pieces when they're mad, and sometimes they're sweet as honey. Pa's going to sell one of them, but we can't decide which must go. Polly talks a lot when she's in the mood. I don't know what's ruffled her so. Polly, my pretty Polly, sing for me, and the first time I go out I'll buy you some candy with lots of peanuts in it--lots--of--peanuts," lingeringly.

"Polly sing! Oh, ho! ho! Polly can't sing no more'n a crow," squeaked out Dan.

"Can too, can too!"

"Pretty Polly! Polly want a cracker. Polly sing for her dear Dan. Oh, boo hoo!"

Polly screamed in a tearing rage.

The young colored lad entered. "Miss Lu, de birds disturb yer gramper.

Lemme take Polly. You bad bird, you're goin' in a dungeon."

With that he whisked Polly off. Dan laughed gleefully. The boys came, and Dan went through his stock accomplishments, much to their delight.

"But Polly's a sight the funniest," declared Lu. "Only she has such a horrid temper and it just grows worse. We had a monkey and that got to be so awful bad. Now let's go and see the guinea-pigs."

They were up on the top floor. "We had them down cellar," explained one of the boys, "but some of them died. 'Gene said 'twas too dark and damp."

The children trudged up-stairs. There was a pen in a small room which seemed a receptacle for all sorts of broken toys. Ah, how pretty the little things were; black-and-yellow-spotted, bright-eyed, and soft-coated, with a tiny sort of squeak, and tame enough to be caught.

Lu offered one to Hanny, but she drew back in half fear. Then they brought in the squirrel, and he was a handsome fellow with beady eyes and a bushy tail, and when they let him out he ran up on any one's shoulder.

"If it was only warm, we'd go out and have a swing. Oh, don't you want a ride? Here's our horse. We don't care much for it now, though in summer we have it out-of-doors."

Hanny was speechless with amaze. She had never seen so large a one in the stores. He was covered with real hair, had a splendid mane and tail and beautiful eyes. His silver-mounted red trappings were extremely gorgeous.

"He's magnificent!" declared Ben. "Hanny, just try him. Don't be a little 'fraid-cat!" as she hung back.

"See here!" Lu sprang on and took an inspiriting gallop. The horse worked with springs and seemed fairly alive. Afterward Hanny ventured and found it exhilarating. Oh, if she could only have one!

"I suppose it cost a good deal," she questioned timidly.

Jeffrey laughed. "'Gene picked it up at an auction where people were being sold out, and he got it for a song," he said. "But we've outgrown it. I'd like a real pony. I wish pa'd keep a horse."

"We have two," said the little girl.

"Pshaw now! you're joking."

"No," rejoined Ben quietly. "We brought them down from the farm. Father and Steve needed them."

"Do you own a farm, too?" Jeffrey asked in amaze. "Why, you must be all-fired rich!"