funerals, and--" She stopped hastily, with a quick look at David;
but the boy did not seem to have heard.

"And doesn't anybody live here in this house, but just you and
Mr. Holly, and Mr. Perry Larson?" he asked, still looking
wonderingly about him.

"No, not--now." Mrs. Holly drew in her breath with a little
catch, and glanced at the framed portrait of a little boy on the
wall.

"But you've got such a lot of rooms and--and things," remarked
David. "Why, daddy and I only had two rooms, and not hardly any
THINGS. It was so--different, you know, in my home."

"I should say it might have been!" Mrs. Holly began to dust
hurriedly, but carefully. Her voice still carried its hint of
superiority.

"Oh, yes," smiled David. "But you say you don't use this room
much, so that helps."

"Helps!" In her stupefaction Mrs. Holly stopped her work and
stared.

"Why, yes. I mean, you've got so many other rooms you can live in
those. You don't HAVE to live in here."

" 'Have to live in here'!" ejaculated the woman, still too
uncomprehending to be anything but amazed.