pansies would flourish in the flower beds by the front stoop. The
grass plat by the curb boasted a couple of trees. The whole place
was distinctive, individual, and very homelike, and came as a
grateful relief to the endless lines of houses built of yellow
Michigan limestone that pervaded the rest of the neighbourhood in
every direction.

"I love the place," exclaimed Laura. "I think it's as pretty a house
as I have seen in Chicago."

"Well, it isn't so spick and span," commented Page. "It gives you
the idea that we're not new-rich and showy and all."

But Aunt Wess' was not yet satisfied.

"_You_ may see, Laura," she remarked, "how you are going to heat all
that house with that one furnace, but I declare I don't."

Their car, or rather their train of cars, coupled together in
threes, in Chicago style, came, and Landry escorted them down town.
All the way Laura could not refrain from looking out of the windows,
absorbed in the contemplation of the life and aspects of the
streets.

"You will give yourself away," said Page. "Everybody will know
you're from the country."

"I am," she retorted. "But there's a difference between just mere
'country' and Massachusetts, and I'm not ashamed of it."