"Was that Mr. Coventry?" asked Laurie. "The mis--I mean the man who lived in the big square house over there?"
"Yes. And I don't mind your calling him the miser, because that is just what he was. He was Mother's half-brother, but he didn't act as if he was even a quarter-brother! He was always just as horrid as he could be. When Father died he wrote Mother to come here and he would provide her with a home. And when we came, we found he meant that Mother was to live here and pay him rent. She didn't have enough money to do that, and so Uncle Peter made the front of the house into a store and bought some things for her and made her sign a mortgage or something. When he died, we thought maybe he had left Mother a little; but there wasn't any will, and not much property, either--just the big house on Walnut Street and this place and about two thousand dollars. When the property was divided, Mother got the other heirs to let her have this as her portion of the estate, but she had to pay four hundred and fifty dollars for it. That took about all she had saved and more, and so we haven't been able to do much to the house yet."
"It doesn't look as if it needed much doing to," said Ned, critically.
"Oh, but it does! It needs a new coat of paint, for one thing. And some of the blinds are broken. And there ought to be a furnace in it. Stoves don't really keep it warm in winter. Some day we'll fix it up nicely, though. As soon as I get through high school, I'm going to work and make a lot of money."
"Attaboy!" approved Ned. "What are you going to do, Polly?"
"I'm learning stenography and typewriting, and Mr. Farmer, the lawyer,--he's the one who got the others to let Mother have the house when Uncle Peter's estate was settled,--says he will find a place for me in his office. He's awfully nice. Some stenographers make lots of money, don't they?"
"I guess so," Ned agreed. "There's a woman in Dad's office who gets eighteen dollars a week."
Polly clasped her hands delightedly. "Maybe I wouldn't get that much, though. I guess Mr. Farmer doesn't pay his stenographer very high wages. Maybe I'd get twelve dollars, though. Don't you think I might?"
"Sure!" said Laurie. "Don't you let any one tell you any different. Didn't folks think that your Uncle Peter left more money than was found, Polly?"