Anne named her amount.  Miss Patty nodded gravely.

“That will do.  As I told you, it is not strictly necessary that we should let it at all.  We are not rich, but we have enough to go to Europe on.  I have never been in Europe in my life, and never expected or wanted to go.  But my niece there, Maria Spofford, has taken a fancy to go.  Now, you know a young person like Maria can’t go globetrotting alone.”

“No—­I—­I suppose not,” murmured Anne, seeing that Miss Patty was quite solemnly in earnest.

“Of course not.  So I have to go along to look after her.  I expect to enjoy it, too; I’m seventy years old, but I’m not tired of living yet.  I daresay I’d have gone to Europe before if the idea had occurred to me.  We shall be away for two years, perhaps three.  We sail in June and we shall send you the key, and leave all in order for you to take possession when you choose.  We shall pack away a few things we prize especially, but all the rest will be left.”

“Will you leave the china dogs?” asked Anne timidly.

“Would you like me to?”

“Oh, indeed, yes.  They are delightful.”

A pleased expression came into Miss Patty’s face.

“I think a great deal of those dogs,” she said proudly.  “They are over a hundred years old, and they have sat on either side of this fireplace ever since my brother Aaron brought them from London fifty years ago.  Spofford Avenue was called after my brother Aaron.”

“A fine man he was,” said Miss Maria, speaking for the first time.  “Ah, you don’t see the like of him nowadays.”

“He was a good uncle to you, Maria,” said Miss Patty, with evident emotion.  “You do well to remember him.”

“I shall always remember him,” said Miss Maria solemnly.  “I can see him, this minute, standing there before that fire, with his hands under his coat-tails, beaming on us.”

Miss Maria took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes; but Miss Patty came resolutely back from the regions of sentiment to those of business.

“I shall leave the dogs where they are, if you will promise to be very careful of them,” she said.  “Their names are Gog and Magog.  Gog looks to the right and Magog to the left.  And there’s just one thing more.  You don’t object, I hope, to this house being called Patty’s Place?”

“No, indeed.  We think that is one of the nicest things about it.”

“You have sense, I see,” said Miss Patty in a tone of great satisfaction.  “Would you believe it?  All the people who came here to rent the house wanted to know if they couldn’t take the name off the gate during their occupation of it.  I told them roundly that the name went with the house.  This has been Patty’s Place ever since my brother Aaron left it to me in his will, and Patty’s Place it shall remain until I die and Maria dies.  After that happens the next possessor can call it any fool name he likes,” concluded Miss Patty, much as she might have said, “After that—­the deluge.”  “And now, wouldn’t you like to go over the house and see it all before we consider the bargain made?”