tried. It was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn
turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips.

“I know just how I’m going to fix this room up for you, Petronilla,”
Billy said, nodding his head mysteriously. “Now let’s go into the
kitchen.”

The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw it
and Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamed
with delight.

Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshine
pouring in through every one of them. But it was not the four
windows nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation—it was the
stone floor.

“We’ll put a carpet on it if you think it’s too cold, Granny,” Billy
suggested immediately.

“Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy,” Granny begged. “’Tis loike me ould
home in Oireland. Sure ’tis homesick Oi am this very minut looking
at ut.”

“All right,” Billy agreed cheerfully. “What you say goes, Granny.
Now upstairs to the sleeping-rooms.”

To get to the second floor they climbed a little stairway not more
than three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangular
in shape because the stairway had to turn so often. And
upstairs—after they got there—consisted of three rooms, two big and