"Isn't it one of those frightfully smart developments?" Nancy
asked, smiling uneasily.
"It's considered the finest home development on Long Island," the
agent admitted readily, "The place I'm going to show you--I'm
going to show you two or three--but the special place I want to
show you, was built for a HOME. There isn't a finer building
anywhere. Lansing, the man who built it, was a splendid fellow,
with a lovely wife--lovely woman. But her mother lives in
California, and she got to worrying--"
"Mr. Bradley told me," Nancy said sympathetically.
"Homes, and home-makers," pursued the agent, "That's what we need.
The people we have here are all quiet, home-loving folks, we don't
want show, we don't want display--"
"Well, that's our idea!" Bert approved. And he rather vexed his
inconsistent wife by adding hardily, "Remember that my top figure
is ten thousand, Rogers, will you?"
"Now, you wait and see what I have to show you, and then we'll
talk turkey," the other man said goodnaturedly. Anne, sitting on
her mother's lap beside him, gave him a sudden smile at the word
she recognized.
He wheeled the car smoothly through the great gates of cement,
looped with iron chains, that shut off the village herd from the
sacred ground.
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