glorified all.

"'Boston shows a soft Venetian side,'" quoted Katy, after a while. "I
know now what Mr. Lowell meant when he wrote that. I don't believe there
is a more beautiful place in the world."

"Why, of course there isn't," retorted Rose, who was a most devoted
little Bostonian, in spite of the fact that she had lived in Washington
nearly all her life. "I've not seen much beside, to be sure, but that is
no matter; I know it is true. It is the dream of my life to come into
the city to live. I don't care what part I live in,--West End, South
End, North End; it's all one to me, so long as it is Boston!"

"But don't you like Longwood?" asked Katy, looking out admiringly at the
pretty places set amid vines and shrubberies, which they were now
passing. "It looks so very pretty and pleasant."

"Yes, it's well enough for any one who has a taste for natural
beauties," replied Rose. "I haven't; I never had. There is nothing I
hate so much as Nature! I'm a born cockney. I'd rather live in one room
over Jordan and Marsh's, and see the world wag past, than be the owner
of the most romantic villa that ever was built, I don't care where it
may be situated."

The cab now turned in at a gate and followed a curving drive bordered
with trees to a pretty stone house with a porch embowered with Virginia
creepers, before which it stopped.

"Here we are!" cried Rose, springing out. "Now, Katy, you mustn't even
take time to sit down before I show you the dearest baby that ever was