He had not arrived, but they found a ponderous package of plans from Aunt Melville, with an explanatory note, a letter from Cousin Bessie admonishing Jill that her new home ought to be “a perfect poem, pervaded and perfumed by a rare feeling of tender longing and homely aspiration,” and another from her father’s oldest sister.

[Illustration:  GROUND FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE’S AMBITION.]

[Illustration:  FIRST FLOOR OF AUNT MELVILLE’S AMBITION.]

“For fifty years,” Aunt Jerusha wrote, “I have lived in what would now be called an old-fashioned house, though it was new enough when I came to it, and I always think of the Scripture saying when I hear about the many inventions that men have sought out and are putting into houses now-a-days.  The danger is not so much from the inventions themselves as from what they lead to.  They promise great things, but I’ve learned to be suspicious of anything or anybody that makes large promises.  I’ve learned, too, that realities sometimes go by contraries as well as dreams.  The poorest folks are often the richest, and the greatest saving often turns out to be the greatest waste.  Air-tight stoves saved the wood-pile, but they gave us colds and headaches.  So your uncle put them away and we went back to the fireplaces.  Then came the hot-air furnaces, which seemed so much less trouble than open fires, but taking care of the open fires wasn’t half so troublesome as taking care of sick folks; and the same thing we learned to our bitter cost of the plumbing pipes that creep around like venomous serpents and promise to save so many steps.  Perhaps they do, but it seems to me that much of our vaunted labor-saving is at best only a transfer.  We work all the harder at something else or compel others to work for us.  When I began housekeeping I had no difficulty in taking care of my large house without any help, nor in caring for my family while it was small.  Yet I hadn’t a single modern invention or labor-saving machine, I have had a great many since and have tried a great many more.  When I find one that helps in the work that must be done I am glad to keep it.  If it merely does something new—­something I had never done before—­I keep the old way.  Multiplying wants may be a means of grace to the half-civilized, but our danger lies in the other direction:  we have too many wants already.  And this is what I sat down to say to you, my dear child:  Don’t make housekeeping such a complex affair that you must give to it all your time and strength, leaving no place for the ’better part.’  Don’t fill your house with furniture too fine to be used, and don’t try to have everything in the latest fashion.  I see many beautiful things and read of many more, but nothing is half so beautiful to me as the things that were new fifty years ago and are still in daily use.  Of planning houses I know but little.  For one thing, I should say, have the kitchen and working departments as close at hand as possible.  This will save many weary steps, whether you do your own work or leave it with servants, the best of whom need constant watching and encouragement, or they will not make life any easier or better worth living.”