But it's perfectly lovely inside; and it's the insides of houses that really count just as it is the insides of people--their hearts, I mean; whether they're good and kind, or hateful and disagreeable.
We have dinner at night here, and I've been to the theater twice already in the afternoon.

I've got to go to school next week, Mother says, but so far I've just been having a good time.

And so's Mother.
Honestly, it has just seemed as if Mother couldn't crowd the days full enough.

She hasn't been still a minute.
Lots of her old friends have been to see her; and when there hasn't been anybody else around she's taken Peter and had him drive us all over Boston to see things;--all kinds of things; Bunker Hill and museums, and moving pictures, and one play.
But we didn't stay at the play.

It started out all right, but pretty soon a man and a woman on the stage began to quarrel.