Jill spoke with unwonted seriousness and a wisdom beyond her years.  Even Jack was impressed for the moment, and expressed a wish to tear down some of the ornamental appendages from his own house.  “The piazzas are well enough—­that is, they would be if they were twice as wide—­but the observatory is good for nothing, because nobody can get into it to observe, unless he crawls along the ridge-pole, and I never did know what all that mess of wooden stuff under the eaves and about the windows was for.  I suppose it was intended to give the house a richer look.”

[Illustration:  NO WASTE OF WOOD.]

“Yes, it enriches it just as countless rows of puffs, ruffles and flounces, made of coarse cotton cloth with a sewing machine and piled on without regard to grace or comfort, would ‘enrich’ a lady’s dress.”

“I thought you objected to the dress anology?”

“I do, positively, but it appears to have been the theory accepted by modern architects almost universally.  I don’t see.  Jack, that your house is any worse than others in this respect, and I have no doubt it will ‘sell’ all the better for the superfluous lumber attached to the outside walls.”

“Thank you, my dear!  That is the first good word you have spoken for it.  Well, there is one comfort; I am convinced that you didn’t commit the reprehensible folly of marrying me for my house.”

“No, indeed, Jack.  It was pure devotion; a desperate case of elective affinity.”

“And yet we are happily married! We shall never do for the hero and heroine of a modern romance.  There isn’t a magazine editor or a book publisher that would look at us for a moment.”

“Let us be thankful—­and finish our letter.

“’I am anxious, as you know, my dear niece, that you should, begin life in a manner creditable to the family, and I trust you will allow no romantic or utilitarian notions to prevent your conforming to the requirements of good society.  This house, in all such respects, will be perfectly satisfactory.  I have bought the plans for you from the owner, and I hope you will accept them with my best wishes.’

“And that is all, this time.  Aunt Melville’s notion of a house seems to be a place for entertaining the ‘best society.’  Her zeal is certainly getting the better of her conscience and judgment.  She cannot honestly buy the plans from the owner of the house, because he never owned them; they belong to the architect, and she ought to know better than to advise the use of material that would have to be brought at great expense from a long distance.  If cobble-stones and boulders were indigenous in this region, and old stone fences could be had for the asking, I should like to use them, but they are not.  It is also evident that she did not penetrate far into the interior of the house or she would have discovered an unpardonable defect—­the absence of ‘back’ stairs.  I do not think it very serious in such a plan, where the one flight is near the centre of the house and is not very conspicuous, but Aunt Melville would lie awake nights if she knew there were no back stairs for the servants.”