square and light, and one smaller and darker.

“The small room is to be made into a bathroom,” Billy explained,
“and these two big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which one will you
have, Maida?”

Maida examined both rooms carefully. “Well, I don’t care for myself
which I have,” she said. “But it does seem as if there were a
teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for
she loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I
have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because
they’re so old, and mine are all wrong because they’re so young.”

“All right,” Billy agreed. “Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one for
you. That’s settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth,
Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully
rooms these are! They’re as old as Noah.”

“I’m glad they’re old,” Maida said. “But of course they must be.
This house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must
have been a long, long, long time ago.”

“Just look at the floors,” Billy went on admiringly. “See how uneven
they are. You’ll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep
from falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming.
That’s a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect.”

Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her
wrinkled hands. “Manny’s the toime Oi’ve snibbed a latch loike that
in Oireland,” she said, and she smiled so hard that her very