But Susan had set out to build a perfect house, and she was not to be frightened from her object.  So in process of time there were delivered into the owner’s hands the keys of the house that Susan had built.

Three lines in a morning paper inviting a tenant brought a throng of applicants.  Susan, like the generality of landlords, had her face set against tenants with certain encumbrances, so a score or more of applicants had been refused the house before the close of the first day.

Toward evening a gentleman called to see Miss Summerhaze, announcing himself as Mr. Falconer.  When Susan entered the parlor she found a heavy-set, rather short man, who had bright gray eyes, a broad full forehead, and was altogether a very good-looking person.

“I have called,” he said immediately, “to inquire about the house you have advertised for rent on North Jefferson street.”

“I am ready to answer your inquiries,” said Susan, like the business-woman she was.

After the questions usual in such circumstances, by which Mr. Falconer satisfied himself that the house would probably answer his purpose, it became Susan’s turn to satisfy herself that he was such a tenant as she desired for her model house.  “Before going to look at the house,” she said, “I ought to ask you some questions, for I feel particular about who goes into it.”

Susan had occasion at a later day to remember the shade of uneasiness that came into Mr. Falconer’s face at this point.  “I trust I shall be able to answer all your questions to your satisfaction,” he said.

“Do you keep dogs?” This is the first question Susan asked.

Mr. Falconer smiled, and looked as though he wondered what that had to do with the matter.

“I ask,” Susan hastened to explain, “because dogs often tear up the grounds.”

“Well, no, I don’t keep dogs,” Mr. Falconer answered.

“Have you boys?”

Mr. Falconer smiled quietly, and replied, “No, I haven’t any boys.”

“Three or four rough boys will ruin a house in a few months,” Susan said in her justification.  “Have you any children?—­a large family?”

“What do people do who have large families and who must rent houses?” Mr. Falconer asked.

“Why, go to people more anxious to rent than I am.”

“No,” said Mr. Falconer, returning to the question:  “I am unfortunately a bachelor.”

“Do you propose keeping bachelor’s hall?” Susan asked in quick concern.  “Excuse me, but I could not think of renting the house to a bachelor or bachelors.  It is a rare man who is a house-keeper.  Things would soon be at sixes and sevens with a set of men in the house.”

“I do not wish to rent the house for myself, but for a friend.”

“Well, I propose the same questions in reference to your friend that I have asked concerning yourself.”

“Well, then,” Mr. Falconer replied, still smiling, “my friend does not keep dogs; she has no boys; she has one little girl.”