1. The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. You do not understand, and you would like to. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment.
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