It did not take long to reach the flat, and they were soon inspecting the rooms, at which Mrs. Graham looked askance, while Rena drew a quick breath, they were so much smaller than she had expected. Tom was in high spirits as he showed them through. “This is the parlor,” he said, indicating the front room, “and this little nook out of it over the hall can be fitted up as a Japanese den. This room we will use for a library, where I can smoke and read. This is the dining-room, all furnished in oak. And the biggest room in the house with a fair outlook. Here is a sleeping-room, and bath-room, here the kitchen, here the servant’s room, small, to be sure, but less work to take care of; and here is what I consider best of all, a nice platform or open shed out of the kitchen where we can keep our truck. How do you like it?” They had reached the open shed where they were to keep truck, of the nature of which Rena, who knew nothing of housekeeping, had no idea. She had followed Tom mechanically, with a feeling that her aunt’s gown rustled more than usual as they went from room to room. She did not quite know what she did think except that it was different from what she had expected. Evidently Tom was pleased and wished her to be, and with a catch of breath she said: “It is very nice, but rather small, big enough for us, though,” while her aunt asked: “Where am I to sleep if I should visit you—there is no spare room for guests?” “By George! I hadn’t thought of that,” Tom said; then, brightening suddenly, he added, “We’ll put a bed-lounge in the library and turn that into a sleeping-room. Shall we go now?” “But we haven’t decided what furniture we want,” Rena said, and Tom replied: “Time enough for that after I show you the city.” Rena was the first to go down the stairs, which she preferred to the elevator. Behind her came her aunt who turned to Tom and said in a low tone: “You must give up that Quixotic notion not to use Rena’s money, and rent a larger place. According to that will she has a right to a part of Sandy’s fortune, and she must not be buried here!” “Think so?” Tom answered, good-humoredly, while Mrs. Graham shrugged her shoulders and thought of Reginald Travers and the will. They were all rather silent, as they drove around the city, seeming to Rena to be going out of it until at last they were in a suburb and stopped before a handsome, modern house, with grounds in front and garden and stable in the rear. “Who lives here?” Rena asked. “No one at present. I want you to see it,” Tom said, putting up his arms to lift her out. “I believe he has been playing a joke about that flat,” Mrs. Graham thought, as she followed up the walk to the front door, of which Tom had the key.