Confess, did you
ever have such a good time in your life?"

"My enthusiasm is sprouting vigorously."

"And the fun is only just beginning. But do come here--quick, Marion!
I want you to see Giant Despair."

A tall, heavily built old man was passing along Pleasant Street, his
brows drawn together in a tremendous frown. He swung a stout
walking-stick in his right hand, as if he would have been pleased to
lay it over somebody's shoulders. At the corner he paused and looked
back at the shop.

"Did you see? He shook his fist!" cried Norah.

"Have we an enemy?" asked Marion.

CHAPTER SIXTH

IN THE EYES OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Its isolation in the heart of the city had something to do, no doubt,
with certain village-like customs that prevailed in the Terrace. The
neighbors ran in upon one another with their needlework for a social
afternoon. If Alexina or Madelaine Russell were going to a party,
there was sure to be an audience of two or three waiting to see them
after they were dressed. When the Leigh's cook, Aunt Minty, made
jumbles, a plateful always found its way over the back fence to Miss
Virginia Wilbur; and when the Wilburs had something particularly nice
for dessert, some neighbor had a share of it. Judge Russell and Mr.
Goodman played chess together and talked of old times, and on the
whole friendliness prevailed, with only an occasional neighborly tiff,
when perhaps some one was heard to wish that Caroline Millard would
mind her own business. There were other occasions when Mrs. Millard's
executive ability proved helpful and was warmly appreciated.

The strenuous life had not as yet invaded the Terrace. Mrs. Millard,
to be sure, belonged to the Woman's Club, and presided at various
board meetings, but she was the exception.

The Terrace had its problems. We know Miss Virginia's; but Alexina,
not suspecting it, watching her in church on Sundays, wished she
herself were middle-aged and had all her troublesome questions
answered, for at forty-eight one must have solved life's problems,
Alex thought.

Madelaine only wanted money to gratify her taste for pretty things.
Given plenty of money, and life would be a simple matter. And so it
seemed to Miss Sarah Leigh, always cheery, yet always burdened with
the doubt where next month's bread and butter were to come from, and
with the regret that her nephew, Wayland, must work instead of going
to college.

Old Mr. Goodman had the money, and his great tomb