They walked about the plot, a large one. At the back, beside the garage, they could look over a small but healthy hedge to more beach, clustered with unusual shells at low tide, and the straggling outskirts of the village. From the front, they looked straight down a wide tree-shaded street, that lost itself in a peaceful vista of great trees and vine-smothered stone walls. "Holly Court" was quiet, it was naturally isolated, it seemed to Nancy already like home. Even now, however, Mr. Rogers would not talk terms. He drove them about again, passing other houses, all happily and prosperously occupied. He told Nancy about this family and that. "What'd that house cost?" Bert would demand. "Ah well, THAT. That belongs to Ingram, of the Ingram Thorn Coal people, you know. I suppose Mr. Ingram has invested forty or fifty thousand dollars in that place, in one way and another. The tennis court--" And so on and on. Presently they passed the pretty, unpretentious club-house, built close to the water. A few light sails were dipping and shaking on the bay, children were gathered in a little knot beside an upturned canoe, on the shore. Several cars were parked on the drive outside the club, and Nancy felt decidedly self-conscious as she and Bert and the children walked onto the awninged porch that was the tea room. "Now this club belongs to the place," Mr. Rogers said, "You're buying here--and I don't mind telling you, Mr. Bradley, that I want you to buy here," he broke off to admit persuasively--"because you and your wife are the sort of people we need here. You won't find anything anywhere that is backed by the same interest, you won't. However, about the club. Your buying here makes you a member of this club----" "Oh, is that SO!" Nancy exclaimed, in delighted surprise. "Oh, yes," said the agent. "The dues are merely nominal--for the upkeep of the place." "Of course!" said the Bradleys. "Your dues entitle you to all the privileges of the club--I believe the bathhouses are a little extra, but everything else is yours. You can bring a friend here to tea, give a card party here--there are dances and dinners all winter long." "Mother, are we coming here to live?" asked Junior, over his chocolate. "I don't know," Nancy answered, feeling that she could cry with nervousness. She hardly tasted her tea, she hardly saw the men and women that drifted to and fro. Her heart was choking her with hope and fear, and she knew that Bert was nervous, too.