"But you just wait till you
get inside and see the big stone fireplace and the queer cupboards. Why,
this house is historic! It's been here since pioneer days. Look out for
the floor; it's a bit rotten along here."
"I don't think I'll come in," said Mrs. Ranny, holding up her skirts.
"What a funny little staircase!" cried Eleanor. "And what huge rooms! You
_must_ come in, Aunt Flo, and see the fireplace."
"And look at the walls!" cried Quin. "You don't see walls like those
these days. But you just wait till you get upstairs. You've got the
surprise of your life coming to you."
"Outside's good enough for me," Mr. Ranny declared. "I want to take a
look at that old apple orchard."
"I'll go upstairs with you!" said Eleanor. "Come on, Aunt Flo; let's see
what it's like."
At the top of the steps they both gave an exclamation of delight. The
house, hemmed in, in front, by its trees and underbrush, overlooked from
its rear windows a valley of surpassing loveliness. For miles the eye
could wander over orchards full of pink-and-white peach blossoms on
leafless boughs, over farm-lands and woody spaces full of floating clouds
of white dogwood.
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