Moralizing thus, but always with an architectural or house-building background, she continued her work, noticing the sharp grooves and projecting mouldings that caught the dust, the high, ugly thresholds, the doors that swung the wrong way, compelling half a dozen extra steps in passing through them; shelves that were too high or too narrow; drawers that refused to “draw” or dropped helplessly on the floor as soon as they were drawn out far enough to display the spoons and spices they contained; window stools that came down behind tables and shelves, forming a sort of receptacle for lost articles belonging to the kitchen or pantry—­all of which she resolved should not be repeated.  When Bessie arrived the house was in that most perfect order which gives no sign of unusual preparation.

[Illustration:  FIRST FLOOR OF THE CONTRIBUTION.]

“This is too perfectly lovely for anything,” exclaimed Bessie.  “I just dote on domestic duties.  You can’t help being overpoweringly happy, Jill, with such a home and such a husband.  Then only to think of the new house drives me completely frantic.  What will it be like?  Are the plans made?  Oh!  I do hope not, for I have a million of things to tell you about that are totally unspeakable.”

“Then you are just in time.  We had a long letter from the architect this morning asking for instructions on various matters.”

“How perfectly fascinating!  Let’s sit down this minute and begin upon them.”

But Jill preferred waiting till Jack came home, bringing with him his younger brother, just home for summer vacation.

“It isn’t necessary to announce dinner,” said she.  “The preliminary odors have already advertised it through the entire house.”

“I thought these observations were to be strictly confidential,” observed Jack.

“That wasn’t ‘finding fault.’  It was a mere casual remark.  Some people may think it pleasanter to be summoned by the odor of broiling fish than by the noise of a dinner-bell.”

“Indeed I do,” said Bessie, taking Jack’s proffered arm.  “Odors are too delicious for anything.  They are so refined and spiritual I’m sure I could live on them.  I would far prefer the fragrance of a dish of strawberries to the fruit itself.”

“We shall get along capitally then.  You can smell of the berries and I’ll eat them afterwards.  You see now, Jill, the advantage of having a house built like this.  Cousin Bessie proposes that we live on the fragrance of the food.  It won’t be necessary even to come to the dining-room.  We can all stay in the parlor or in our chambers and absorb sustenance from the circumambient air, as the sprightly goldfish gathers honey from the inside of a glass ball.”

“Please don’t make fun of me, Cousin Jack, for I do truly revel in fragrance, and I’m sure your house is beautifully planned.  Don’t you think so, Mr. James?”