"It's too bad," said Adam, "but I'll stick to you, and so will
Ma."
"Of course you will, you dear boy," said Kate. "Now let's try our
third place; it is not far from here."
Soon they found the house, but Kate stopped short on sight of it.
"Adam, there has been little in life to make me particular," she
said, "but I draw the line at that house. I would go crazy in a
house painted bright red with brown and blue decoration. It
should be prohibited by law. Let us hunt up the Widder Holt and
see how her taste in colour runs."
"The joke is on you," said Adam, when they had found the house.
It was near the school, on a wide shady street across which big
maples locked branches. There was a large lot filled with old
fruit trees and long grass, with a garden at the back. The house
was old and low, having a small porch in front, but if it ever had
seen paint, it did not show it at that time. It was a warm linty
gray, the shingles of the old roof almost moss-covered.
"The joke IS on me," said Kate. "I shall have no quarrel with the
paint here, and will you look at that?"
Adam looked where Kate pointed across the street, and nodded.
"That ought to be put in a gold frame," he said.
"I think so, too," said Kate. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised if
I stay where I can see it."
They were talking of a deep gully facing the house and running to
a levee where the street crossed. A stream ran down it, dipped
under a culvert, turned sharply, and ran away to a distant river,
spanning which they could see the bridge. Tall old forest trees
lined the banks, shrubs and bushes grew in a thicket. There were
swaying, clambering vines and a babel of bird notes over the seed
and berry bearing bushes.
"Let's go inside, and if we agree, then we will get some water and
feed the horse and eat our lunch over there," said Kate.
"Just the thing!" said young Adam. "Come and we will proceed to
the residence of Mrs. Holt and investigate her possibilities. How
do you like that?"
"That is fine," said Kate gravely.
"It is," said Adam, promptly, "because it is Ma. And whatever is
Ma, is right."
"Good for you!" cried Kate. "I am going to break a Bates record
and kiss you good-bye, when you go. I probably shan't have
another in years. Come on."
They walked up the grassy wooden walk, stepped on the tiny, vine-
covered porch, and lifted and dropped a rusty old iron knocker.
Almost at once the door opened, to reveal a woman of respectable
appearance, a trifle past middle age. She made Kate think of
dried sage because she had a dried-out look and her complexion,
hair, and eyes were all that colour. She was neat and clean while
the hall into which she invited them was clean and had a wholesome
odour. Kate explained her errand. Mrs. Holt breathed a sigh of
relief.