"Well, they had such trouble anyway. Great-grandfather had just built Fairacres, and had spent a great deal to beautify the grounds. He was a pretty rich man, I fancy, and loved to live in a great whirl of society and entertain lots of people and all that. He was especially fond of the view from the front of the house and had cut away some of the trees for 'vistas' and 'outlooks' and 'views.' There were no mills on the Ardsley then. They came in our own grandfather's time. It was just a beautiful, shimmering river--" "Hal, you're a poet!" "Never," said the boy, with a blush. "But you are. You tell things so I can just see them. I can see that shimmering river this instant, in my mind, with my eyes shut. I can see boats full of people sailing on it, and hear music and laughter and everything lovely." "Who's the poet now?" "I'm not. But go on." "It seems that old Mr. Ingraham thought he had been cheated by great-grandfather--" "Likely enough he had. Else I don't see where he got all that money to do things." "But, missy, he was _our_ relative. He was a _Kaye_." "There might be good Kayes and bad Kayes, mightn't there?" "Amy, you're too honest for comfort. You may think a spade's a spade, but you needn't always mention it." "Go on with the story. In a few minutes Cleena will call us to our 'frugal repast,' like the poor children in stories, and I want to hear all about this 'ruined castle' I've come to live in, I mean 'dwell,' for story-book girls--'maidens'--never do anything so commonplace as just 'live.' Hally, boy, there's a lot of humbug in this world." "How did you find that out, Miss Experience?" "I didn't trouble to find it, I just read it. I thought it sounded sort of nice and old, so I said it." "Humph! Well, do you want to hear, or will you keep interrupting?" "I do want to hear, and I probably shall interrupt. I am not blind to my own besetting sins." "Listen. Just as great-grandfather had everything fixed to his taste and was enjoying life to the utmost, old Jacob came here to this knoll that faces Fairacres--Oh, you needn't turn around to see. The trees have grown again, and the view is hidden. On this knoll, if there was anything tall, it would spoil the Fairacres' view. So Jacob built this 'Spite House.' He made it as ugly as he could, and he did everything outrageous to make great-grandfather disgusted. He named this rocky barren 'Bareacre,' and that little gully yonder he called 'Glenpolly,' because his enemy had named the beautiful ravine we know as 'Glenellen.' Polly and Ellen were the wives' names, and I've heard they grieved greatly over the quarrel. Mr. Ingraham painted huge signs with the names on them, and hung up scarecrows on poles, because he wouldn't let a tree grow here, even if it could. There are a few now, though. Look like old plum trees. My, what a home for our mother!"