“I remember that house with the Gothic roof and the funny wooden lacework in the peak,” said Christobel. “I used to be able to see it across the road, way down the street, if I flattened my nose against the window when I was watching for you to come home from the office, Father.” “There’s the tree!” said Rannie, coming out of his gloom as he spied the old home before either of the others. “Oh, it’s just as it used to be!” said Christobel with shining eyes. “It doesn’t look quite as big as I reme...mber it, but it looks dear! Father, could we go in? Have you got a key?” “Yes,” answered her father, with almost a ring of eagerness in his own voice. And he fished a key from his pocket. “I thought if we should happen to get over this way, we might look around and see if everything is in good condition. I suppose it will look terribly dirty and dusty. I haven’t sent anybody to clean in some time.” Christobel could hardly wait for her father to unlock the door. She laid a hand lovingly on the railing of the old porch with its paint all checkered and ready to crumble.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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