"Patty doesn't think them absurd," laughed Margaret. "She would tell you that she named them herself out of a 'piece of a book' she found in the ash barrel long ago when they were children. You should hear Patty say it really to appreciate it. She used to preface it by some such remark as: 'Names ain't like measles an' relations, ye know. Ye don't have ter have 'em if ye don't want 'em--you can change 'em.'" "Ugh!" shuddered Mrs. Merideth. "Margaret, how can you--laugh!" "Why, it's funny, I think," laughed Margaret again, as she turned away. Even the most urgent entreaties on the part of Margaret failed to start the Spencers on their trip, and not until she finally threatened to make the first move herself and go down to the town, did they consent to go. "But that absurd house of yours isn't ready yet," protested Mrs. Merideth. "I know, but I shall stay with Patty until it is," returned Margaret. "I would rather wait until you go, as you seem so worried about the 'break,' as you insist upon calling it; but if you won't, why I must, that is all. I must be there to superintend matters." "Then I suppose I shall have to go," moaned Mrs. Merideth, "for I simply will not have you leave us here and go down there to live; and I shall tell everybody, _everybody_," she added firmly, "that it is merely for this winter, and that we allowed you to do it only on that one condition." Margaret smiled, but she made no comment--it was enough to fight present battles without trying to win future ones. On the day the rest of the family left Hilcrest, Margaret moved to Patty's little house on the Hill road. Her tiny room up under the eaves looked woefully small and inconvenient to eyes that were accustomed to luxurious Hilcrest; and the supper--which to Patty was sumptuous in the extravagance she had allowed herself in her visitor's honor--did not tempt her appetite in the least. She told herself, however, that all this was well and good; and she ate the supper and laid herself down upon the hard bed with an exaltation that rendered her oblivious to taste and feeling. In due time the Mill House, as Margaret called her new home, was ready for occupancy, and the family moved in. Naming the place had given Margaret no little food for thought. "I want something simple and plain," she had said to Patty; "something that the people will like, and feel an interest in. But I don't want any 'Refuges' or 'Havens' or 'Rests' or 'Homes' about it. It is a home, but not the kind that begins with a capital letter. It is just one of the mill houses." "Well, why don't ye call it the 'Mill House,' then, an' done with it?" demanded Patty. "Patty, you're a genius! I will," cried Margaret. And the "Mill House" it was from that day.