But Nannie's father was only a country doctor, and didn't live in a very large house. You can see for yourself that it is only a white cottage, with green blinds, and a long porch in front, covered with sweetbriar and honeysuckle. But the people that live in the house are quite as pleasant as the house itself, or even as the people that live in the large brick house. After Dr. Merry comes Mrs. Merry, or Nannie's mother, who is, like most mothers, very kind and good; then sister Mary, who is grown up, and Nannie thinks the best sister ever was; then Belle, who is very pretty, and about twelve years old; John and Charlie, who are, like most boys, great teasers, and Nannie sometimes thinks a good deal worse than most boys--but then, Charlie is only four years old, so there is some excuse for him. Lastly, we have Nannie herself, who is--well, we shall find out what she is before our story is finished. She is nine years old, "nearly ten," and would feel offended if we left that out. But here she comes from Grannie Burt's, so we must stop talking about her. She is coming by the lane just as we did, running at first, then a little slower, till at last she stops, for her sister Mary is weeding one of the pretty borders in the little garden. "O Mary! grannie thinks just as you do about heaven; I don't think Mr. Brown knows so much about it as she does." "Why not, Nannie?" "Oh, because grannie is almost there, Mary,--she ought to know!" "What makes you think grannie is almost there?" "Why, she said so; and then she loves to hear about heaven, just as I did about home when I was at Aunt Sarah's." "Do _you_ like to hear about heaven, Nannie?" "Sometimes," she answered, while with her little shoe she played with the pebbles. "Not always! Nannie; when don't you like to hear about it?" Nannie played with the pebbles a good while. At last she said, "I like to hear _some_ things about it always, but not everything." "And what do you like to hear about it always?" "I like to hear about golden streets, and the beautiful water, and the trees, and the harps of the angels, and their golden crowns." "And what don't you like to hear about?" The little foot moved backwards and forwards a good while, and when Nannie did speak, she spoke almost as if she were afraid to do so. "I don't like to hear about its always being Sunday there." "Why, Nannie, don't you like Sunday here?" "Why, yes, always once a week; but that's not like _always_. I don't think I should like to go to church _every_ day, and learn the Catechism, and have a cold dinner, and not play at all." "Maybe I can help you a little, Nannie. Do you ever get tired of loving father?" "Why, no; I should never get tired of that, I'm sure he never gets tired of loving me." "Do you get tired of showing you love him by trying to please him?" "No, Mary; but--"