Part 3 (1/2)
The news evidently tickled him, so much so that he sneezed and shook his head vigorously; then, as if fearing to be misunderstood, he began to purr softly.
”Come, Frances, Mr. Clark is ready to show us the rooms,” her father called; and it is to be hoped Peterkin was not hurt by the sudden manner in which he was dropped.
”This is a nice old place, Jack,” whispered Mrs. Morrison as they followed Frances and the Spectacle Man up the stairs. The former was explaining with great animation how they had seen the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the paper and she had recognized it. ”You see, father is going away and can't take us, and mother and I think we'd like to come here, perhaps,”
she said.
”Well, I had a presentiment I was going to find a good tenant, but I did not think it would be you,” was his reply.
The rooms proved to be large and light; the paper and paint were fresh and clean, and what furniture there was was simple and new.
”I believe it is the very place for us,” Mrs. Morrison said, her housewifely eyes taking in all the possibilities of cosey comfort. ”It will be a new and charming experience; and as for the Spectacle Man, he is simply delightful!”
After showing them through, Mr. Clark had left them, and they could hear him singing as he went,
”The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it.”
”Yes, this will be a nice sitting room, with its windows where,--to quote Frances--'The little sun comes peeping in at morn!'” said Mr.
Morrison.
”And this bedchamber is lovely, and the little kitchen--”
”We can make candy sometimes, can't we, mother?” Frances interrupted, dancing wildly about.
”O Jack! if only you were going to be here;” Mrs. Morrison turned suddenly to the sunny window.
”You know I'll not go one step unless you are willing, Kate,” her husband said, coming to her side.
”Don't be a goose, dear, of course you are going.” Her face was hidden against his shoulder for a moment, then she turned brightly to Frances, who was anxiously inquiring where she was to sleep.
”And mother,” she exclaimed, ”such a pretty young lady pa.s.sed through the hall just now.”
”That is something we must ask about,--what other persons are in the house,” said her father.
Frances was not a little surprised and indignant when, after carrying on what seemed to her a long conversation with Mr. Clark upon various unimportant subjects, her father left with nothing more definite than that they were pleased with the rooms and would let him know their decision next day.
”Aren't we going to take them? I thought it was all settled; I don't understand,” she said when they were on the street.
”Now, Wink, let me ask you something. Don't you honestly think that two persons who have lived more than thirty years ought to have a little better judgment about some things than one who has lived only ten?”
”But I'll be eleven in February, and--well, father, I suppose so, but grown people do take so long to think!”
”It is an interesting old house, and do you know, I think that is a Gilbert Stuart over the mantel in the back room,” remarked Mr. Morrison.
”Why, father, it is a George Was.h.i.+ngton! I'm sure it is,” cried Frances, and couldn't understand why they laughed, till her mother explained that they were probably both right, as Gilbert Stuart had painted a number of portraits of Was.h.i.+ngton.
It spoke well for the Spectacle Man's flat that they looked no farther that day, but there were many things to be taken into consideration that Frances did not dream of. After she was snugly tucked in bed that night, her father and mother sat long talking over their plans.