Grace S. Richmond Boeken

The four Lanes-Max, Sally, Alec and Robert-climbed the five flights of stairs to their small flat with the agility of youth and the impetus of high but subdued excitement. Uncle Timothy Rudd, following more slowly, reached the outer door of the little suite of rooms in time to hear what seemed to be the first outburst. "Well, what do you think now?" "Forty-two acres and the house! Open the windows and give us air!" "Acres run to seed, and the house tumbling down about its own ears! A magnificent inheritance that!" Max cast his hat upon a chair as if he flung it away with the inheritance. "But who ever thought Uncle Maxwell Lane would ever leave his poor relations anything?" This was Sally. "Five miles out by road-a bit less by trolley. Let's go and see it to-morrow afternoon. Thank goodness a half holiday is so near." "Anybody been by the place lately?" "I was, just the other day, on my wheel. I didn't think it looked so awfully bad." This was Robert, the sixteen-year-old.