because we do have little
pet ways of calling, among ourselves,--sometimes one way and sometimes
another; but we don't let these get out of doors much. Mr. Holabird
doesn't like it. So though up stairs, over our sewing, or our
bed-making, or our dressing, we shorten or sweeten, or make a little
fun,--though Rose of the world gets translated, if she looks or
behaves rather specially nice, or stays at the glass trying to do the
first,--or Barbara gets only "Barb" when she is sharper than common,
or Stephen is "Steve" when he's a dear, and "Stiff" when he's
obstinate,--we always _introduce_ "my daughter Rosamond," or "my
sister Barbara," or,--but Ruth of course never gets nicknamed, because
nothing could be easier or pleasanter than just "Ruth,"--and Stephen
is plain strong Stephen, because he is a boy and is expected to be a
man some time. Nobody writes to us, or speaks of us, except as we were
christened. This is only rather a pity for Rosamond. Rose Holabird is
such a pretty name. "But it will keep," her mother tells her. "She
wouldn't want to be everybody's Rose."

Our moving to Westover was a great time.

That was because we had to move the house; which is what everybody
does not do who moves into a house by any means.

We were very much astonished when Grandfather Holabird came in and
told us, one morning, of his having bought it,--the empty Beaman
house, that nobody had lived in for five years. The Haddens had bought
the land for somebody in their family who wanted to come out and
build, and so the old house was to be sold and moved away; and nobody
but old Mr. Holabird owned land near enough to put it upon. For it was
large and solid-built, and could not be taken far.

We were a great deal more astonished when he came in again, another
day, and proposed that we should go and live in it.

We were all a good deal afraid of Grandfather Holabird. He had very
strict ideas of what people ought to do about money. Or rather of what
they ought to do _without_ it, when they didn't happen to have any.

Mrs. Stephen pulled down the green blinds when she saw him coming that
day,--him and his cane. Barbara said she didn't exactly know which it
was she dreaded; she thought she could bear the cane without him, or
even him without the cane; but both together were "_scare-mendous_;
they did put down so."

Mrs. Holabird pulled down the blinds, because he would be sure to
notice the new carpet the first thing; it was a cheap i