“And let me suggest,” said the architect, “that the waste-pipe that carries off the melted ice be allowed to run straight out of doors, without making the acquaintance of the sewer or any other drain-pipe.”

“Please remember that then, as well as the door.  The kitchen sink is at the west end of the room, between and under two windows, which must be at least three feet from the floor.  It is near to the pantry door, to accommodate the dishes used in cooking; yet not so near that one cannot stand beside it without danger of being roasted or broiled; near to the cellar door, from whence come the Murphys and other vegetables to have their faces washed and their eyes put out.  Of course there is a china sink in the china closet, to insure tender treatment for all the table ware, and I should like a sort of window or slide behind the sideboard opening through it.  Sometimes it will be convenient for the waitress to arrange the articles to be used on the table within reach from the dining-room side, and save a special journey whenever a dish, or a spoon is changed.”

“It strikes me,” said Jack, “that when it comes to spoons you’re drawing it pretty fine.  I suppose these are modern improvements, but how much better will the dinners be than the dinners cooked in my kitchen?  Two servants will do all the work for the same wages.”

“Real labor-saving is a religious duty, like all other economy; and if we don’t have better domestic service with better facilities for doing work the fault is our own.”

“But I don’t see that this kitchen is any better than mine.”

“Of course you don’t; you’re a man; but for one thing, your china closet hasn’t even a window of its own.  How do you expect glasses to be made clean and silver bright in such a place?  Now observe my plan:  Not only is the kitchen light, but the entry where the ice comes in, the pantry where the food is prepared, the butler’s pantry, the stairs to the cellar and to the second floor, and Mugby Junction, are all light.  There isn’t a dark corner on the premises, and consequently no excuse for uncleanness or accidents.”

“Just think of the flies.”

“Windows are easily darkened.  But I am not quite ready to talk over these minor matters.  The general plan is the first thing, and I think you will agree with me that it is well begun.”

“According to Poor Richard, then, it is half done.  So it’s time for recess.”

“Very well; way of change let us look at the plans of brother Ted’s house in Kansas.  Its situation is different from ours, as it stands on a high bluff in a bend of the Missouri, and the parlor looks over the water in three different directions, up and down and across the river.  The piazza seems to be arranged to make the most of this situation, and Ted thinks it impossible to contrive a more charming arrangement for hall, parlor and dining-room.  They use the parlor as a common sitting-room, and the hall still more commonly, especially in warm weather.  Ted doesn’t realize that half the charm of the house lies in its adaptation to the site.”