"And we live in the finest part of Avondale," she said, continuing her
thoughts aloud. "Tho' wherever Uncle John is, seems better than anywhere
else."
She had spent the bright, happy summer at the shore, and surely Uncle
John's fine residence, "The Cliffs," had been a delightful summer home.
Then Uncle John had one morning told a bit of wonderful news.
"I've something to tell you, my little girl," he said, drawing Rose
to him.
"This is our summer home," he continued, "and a fine summer place it
is, but Rose, little girl, we're to spend the coming Winter at
Avondale."
It had been very exciting!
Before closing "The Cliffs," those treasures that Uncle John held
dearest were carefully packed to be sent to the new home, and then,
in the big, luxurious car, they had motored to Avondale.
"Good-bye," Rose had said, as she looked back toward "The Cliffs," and
then, after throwing a kiss toward the house, she nestled back in the
car, and tried, for the twentieth time, to "guess" how the new home
would look.
It had proved to be more grand, more beautiful than she had dreamed.
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