However, as his fellow townsmen and allies stated, there seemed to
be no doubt about the desirableness of the city house which David
Townsend had purchased and the fact that he had secured it for an
absurdly low price. The whole family were at first suspicious. It
was ascertained that the house had cost a round sum only a few
years ago; it was in perfect repair; nothing whatever was amiss
with plumbing, furnace, anything. There was not even a soap
factory within smelling distance, as Mrs. Townsend had vaguely
surmised. She was sure that she had heard of houses being
undesirable for such reasons, but there was no soap factory. They
all sniffed and peeked; when the first rainfall came they looked at
the ceiling, confidently expecting to see dark spots where the
leaks had commenced, but there were none. They were forced to
confess that their suspicions were allayed, that the house was
perfect, even overshadowed with the mystery of a lower price than
it was worth. That, however, was an additional perfection in the
opinion of the Townsends, who had their share of New England
thrift. They had lived just one month in their new house, and were
happy, although at times somewhat lonely from missing the society
of Townsend Centre, when the trouble began.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155