“Perhaps I shall; but we must remember the gnat and the camel and try to be consistent.  A single portiere, especially if it be of the rag-carpet style, has a greater dust-collecting capacity than a whole houseful of wooden floors, ceilings and wainscots, even when they are moulded and ornamentally wrought.  Surely they will not be troublesome if they are plain and simple, and only think how much more interesting than flat square walls and ceilings, which we feel compelled to cover with some sort of decoration to make them endurable.  I suppose architects have outgrown the sheet-iron and stucco style of building, and do not generally approve of ‘graining’ honest pine in imitation of coarse-grained chestnut.  But these are not the only concealments and disguises that ought to be reformed.  If we cannot make our house a model in any other respect, I hope it will be free from hypocrisy and silly affectations.”

“By all means; but you mustn’t forget that reformers risk martyrdom.  However, you can’t be too honest for me; I am ready to sign any pledge you offer, even though it prohibit paint, putty and all other cloaks for poverty, ignorance and dishonesty.”

“There’s a time and place for paint and putty, lath, plaster and paper, but we ought not to be helplessly dependent upon them.”

“Have you any idea how the house will look outside,” asked Jack, giving the fire a poke, “or is that to be left to take care of itself?”

“No, indeed! not left to take care of itself.  In that part of the undertaking we are bound to believe that the architect is wiser than we, and must accept in all humility what he decrees.  Still I think the law of domestic architecture at least should be ‘from within out.’  For the sake of the external appearance it ought not to be necessary to make the rooms higher or lower than we want them for use, neither larger nor more irregular in shape.  It ought not to be necessary to build crooked chimneys for the sake of a dignified standing on the roof, or to make a pretense of a window where none is needed.  The windows are for you and me to look out from and to let in the sunlight, not for the benefit of outside observers, and should be treated accordingly.  We will not have big posts—­mullions, do you call them?—­in the middle of them, as there are in these.  When I try to look down the street to see if you are coming home I can scarcely see obliquely to the corner of the lot, and we don’t get half as much sunshine as we should if the windows were all in one.”

[Illustration:  WITH A MULLION AND WITHOUT.]

“Why not, if there’s the same amount of glass?”

“Because the sun can’t shine around a corner; and Jack, why did you set them so near the floor?  There’s no chance for a seat under them, and they do not give as much light or ventilation as they would if they ran nearly up to the ceiling.”

“What is the use of making them long at the top?  They are always half covered up with lambrequins or some fanciful contrivance.”