see only a little through the half-open door, she might have discovered that the breakfast dishes were still standing unwashed on the sink. But who could expect a North End family to overcome North End habits of long standing all in the space of two or three months? What a contrast this home was to the Rosas’ former ill-ventilated abode! Here the sunlight was pouring in, the windows were wide open, and a canary bird in a cage in the kitchen sang so loudly as almost to drown conversation.
“I have a bed all of my own,” said Manuel, pointing to a bedroom in which a small cot stood near the larger bed,—Mrs. Rosa’s larger bed. In fitting up the house, the girls had made an effort to have a separate bed for each member of the family, whereas in the city two beds had been made to do duty for the seven.
Angelina, as Julia carried on a conversation with Mrs. Rosa, was expressing unbounded admiration for everything worn by Brenda,—her hat with its masses of flowers, her pongee parasol lined with pink, the chatelaine on which she carried a number of useless silver things,—she even ventured to finger the sleeve of the soft silk shirt-waist with an expression of approval.
“Come off!” cried Mrs. Rosa, in a tone of reproach. “Eet ees not nice to touch the lady that way. How many times I tell you, Angelina, to be polite!”
Angelina shook her head impatiently, and sat down, holding Brenda’s parasol across her knee.
“Where’s John?” asked Julia, trying to divert the conversation from Angelina.
