"Aunt Francesca," she said, "let me open the house. Tell me what you
want done, and Isabel and I will see to it."
"Certainly," agreed Isabel without enthusiasm. "We'll do it."
"No," Madame replied stubbornly. "He asked me to do it."
"He only meant for you to direct," said Rose. "You surely don't think he
meant you to do the scrubbing?"
Madame smiled at that, and yielded gracefully. "There must be infinite
scrubbing, after all these years. I believe I'll superintend operations
from here. Then, when it's all done, I'll go over and welcome them
home."
"That is as it should be. Isabel and I will go over this afternoon, and
when we come back, we can tell you all about it."
"You'd better drive--I'm sure the paths aren't broken."
So, after luncheon, the two started out with the keys, Madame waving
them a cheery good-bye from the window.
"Everything about this place seems queer to me," said Isabel. "It's the
same, and yet not the same."
"I know," Rose answered. "Things are much smaller, aren't they?"
"Yes. The rooms used to be vast and the ceilings very far away.
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