Three months of
the year grandfather will stay in the old home, the hard, winter months,
and if you are willing, we'll stay with him. The rest of the year--here,
in our own home. Eh? Do you like it?"
She stood a moment, staring into the empty fireplace, her eyes shining
with a sudden hint of most unwonted tears. Then she turned to him.
"Oh, you dear!" she whispered, and was swept into his arms.
"Then you do like it?" he insisted, presently.
"Like it! Oh, I can't tell you. To have such a home as this, so like the
old one, yet so wonderful of itself. To make it ours--to put our own
individuality into it, yet never hurt it. And that garden! What will
mother say? Oh, Richard--I was never so happy in my life!"
He knew that was true of himself, for his heart was full to bursting,
with the success of his scheming. They walked the length of the long
room, looked out of each window, returned to the fireplace. He held her
fast and whispered in her ear:
"Robin, I can see all sorts of things in this room. I saw them the
minute I came into it first, a month ago. I've stood here, dreaming,
more than once since then.
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