hadn't. Because, on any
scheme, on the lowest scale of expenditure, with the most dexterous
manipulation of accounts, the house left him without a margin. But who
would think of margins when he knew that he would grow steadily year by
year into a landlord, the owner of house property, and _that_, if you
would believe it, for less rent than if he didn't own it? So miraculous
was the power of twenty-five pounds down.

As if he thought the house could, after all, run away from him, he
bicycled to Southfields with a letter for the Agent, closing with his
offer that very night.

And by a special appointment with the Agent, made as a concession to his
peculiar circumstances, he and Violet went over before ten o'clock on
Sunday morning to choose the house.

For after all they hadn't chosen it yet.

It was difficult to choose among the houses where all were exactly
alike; but you could choose among the streets, for some were planted
with young limes and some with plane trees, and one, Acacia Avenue, with
acacias. Ransome liked the strange tufted acacias. "Puts me in mind of
palm trees," he said. And finally his fancy and Violet's was taken by
one house, Number Forty-seven Acacia Avenue, for it stood just opposite
a young tree with a particularly luxuriant tuft. It was really as if the
tree belonged to Number Forty-seven.

Then they discovered that, outwardly uniform, these little houses had a
subtle variety within. All, or nearly all, had different wall papers. In
Number Forty-seven there were pink roses in the front sitting-room and
blue roses in the back, and, upstairs, quiet, graceful patterns of love
knots or trellis work. The love knots, blue with little pink rosebuds,
in the front room (_their_ room) caught them. They were agreed in favor
of Number Forty-seven.

Then--it was on the following Saturday--they quarreled. The Agent had
written inquiring whether Mr. Ransome wished to give his residence a
distinctive name. He didn't wish it. But Violet did. She wished to give
his residence the distinctive and distinguished name of Granville. She
said she couldn't abide a number, while Ranny said he couldn't stand a
name. Especially a silly name like Granville. He said that if he lived
in a house called Granville it would make him feel a silly ass. And
Violet said he was a silly ass already to feel like that about it.

Then Violet cried. It was the first time he had seen her cry, and it
distressed him horribly. He held o