The Aspen Street house just suited Mrs. Ripwinkley, and Diana, and Hazel.
In the first place, it was wooden; built side to the street, so that you went up a little paved walk, in a shade of trees, to get to the door; and then the yard, on the right hand side as you came in, was laid out in narrow walks between borders of blossoming plants. There were vines against the brick end of the next building,--creepers and morning-glories, and white and scarlet runners; and a little martin-box was set upon a pole in the still, farther corner.
The rooms of the house were low, but large; and some of the windows had twelve-paned sashes,--twenty-four to a window. Mrs. Ripwinkley was charmed with these also. They were like the windows at Mile Hill.
Mrs. Ledwith, although greatly relieved by her sister's prompt decision for the house which she did _not_ want, felt it in her conscience to remonstrate a little.
"You have just come down from the mountains, Frank, after your twenty-five years' sleep; you've seen nothing by and by you will think differently. This house is fearfully old-fashioned, _fearfully_; and it's away down here on the wrong side of the hill. You can never get up over Summit Street from here."
"But I mean--that isn't all. There are other things you won't be able to get over. You'll never shake off Aspen Street dust,--you nor the children."
"I don't think it is dusty. It is quiet, and sheltered, and clean. I like it ever so much," said Mrs. Ripwinkley.
"O, dear, you don't understand in the least! It's wicked to let you go on so! You poor, dear, simple little old soul!"
"Never mind," said Mrs. Megilp. "It's all well enough for the present. It pleases the old gentleman, you know; and after all he's done, he ought to be pleased. One of you should certainly be in his neighborhood. _He_ has been here from time immemorial; and any place grows respectable by staying in it long enough--from _choice_. Nobody will wonder at Mrs. Ripwinkley's coming here at his request. And when she _does_ move, you see, she will know exactly what she is about."
"I almost doubt if she ever _will_ know what she is about," said Laura.
"In that case,--well,"--said Mrs. Megilp, and stopped, because it really was not in the least needful to say more.