but they did the job hero grinned at her and shouted that kind of gear calls for more speed and beatrice grinned back the stahr estate was on long island her uncle had written in a quaint district called flower hill beatrice's memories of it were vague but colorful and light what is it called? beatrice asked the house i mean doesnt it have a funny name? hey nonny nonny hero replied mama always said it sounded like somebody saying hello something you have to shout or sing they sailed over the brooklyn nridhe through the motley streets of brooklyn and orderly rows and yards of queens then the road thinned and they passed clusters of blossoming cherry trees and entered rural estates and fields beatrice took a gulp of the much fresher air ignoring the uncertainty of it alll the way her entire life seemed to rattle behind the car as it traveled like an empty can on a string they turned onto a drive hero said almost there beatrice starightened in her seat surpised the road winding in front of them was narrow and unkempt barely a ribbon choked with weeds the gravel gone then it appeared white siding and charcoal gray roof mullioned windows reflecting the patchy loans and terrace the garden had gone the way of the untended road long strands of ivy crept accross the lawn and encroached upon the wraparound porch flowers of course but they looked vicious beatrice wondered if the state of the place had anything to do with her aunt's recent death there was no life behind the windows the curtains limp on the inside of the dirty panes no one is here but then a portly man rose from the porch chair and waved tipsily at them bald as an egg he'd compensated for the lack of hair on his head by growing a mustache thick enough to sweep the floor of tavern hero parked the car by theporch and called hi paap beatrice stumbled out of the car pushing her goggles upthey proved necessary as a headband since the wind had indeed torn her hair to utter lack of respectability her wrist buttons were still undone one sleeve bunched past her elbow , the other dangling loose she looked like a mess and outside of hero's orbit she was suddenly embarrsed by it again but she had no time to try to fix herself before her uncle was sweeping her up in a bone crushing bug lifting her a foot off the ground my girl my dear girl her eyes watered the sharp scent of alcohol emanated off the damp pores of his skin like an ehaled breathe this must have been what hero meant when she said under the weather he set her down thank you for taking me in mr stahr beatrice said you cant imagine how grateful horsefeathers he interrupted ill be uncle leo nothing less i was dreadfully sorry to hear about your mother such a tragedy her uncle cupped her face in his hands his eyes were blurred with drink yet there was spark of a devilish charm in them that unlocked a memory clear and preserved those same eyes and a voice much less slurred saying even tricky girls cant get the jump on me im wily as a ferret ask your old man hed let her win three rounds of ceckers acting astounded each time you look just like your father uncle leo said after a moment i see him sure as day anthony was tall too grew up lanky and tough like a weed except tose frekles im glad you didnt grow out of them you were cute as a chipmunk back then oh leave her alone papa hero patted his arm her nose wrinking at the smell she held beatrice's suitcase in one hand come on , beatrice ill show you your room they eached the porch a hand carved wooden sign hung by the door hey nonny nonny below it someone had nailed in a more hand made post vacancies vacancies? beatrice asked what? hero tracked teh direction of beatrice's stare she moved ahead oh, we have a few borders is all beatrice followed her through the door she remembered the unassuming scale of the place only once inside did it become a mansion.