"It's so old and dismal," Rosy went on. "I declare, I hate almost to ask
anybody here. And it's getting so noisy and dirty--and all those awful
people over there on those streets behind us."
Eliza Marshall's thought flew swiftly towards the second-hand dealer of
those purlieus who had carried away so much good, solid furniture, and
then had declined to pay for it. But this did not prevent her from
looking on her child now as if a viper, warmed at her hearth, had roused
to life and stung her.
"Why can't we change?" Rosy proceeded; "why can't we move? Why can't we
build somewhere--where we can have neighbors, and a house to invite them
to?"
"What do you call the Blackburns and the Freemans?" asked her mother,
severely. "Where can you find nicer folks? Why do we want to chase after
a lot of new people that we don't know anything about?"
"The Blackburns and the Freemans are no company for me," Rosy declared.
"All the people I know are up on the North side or down on Prairie
Avenue."
"The North side!" repeated her mother, out of all patience. "I see myself
moving to the North side at my time of life, after living on this side
for more than forty years. I should feel as much at home in Milwaukee.
And don't talk to me about Prairie, either; as long as I live, I live on
Michigan, and nowhere else. I don't want to hear any more about it--no,
not a word."
While Rosy assailed her mother about the house, Jane attacked her father
about himself.
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