“Capital!  You could do that easily, and if you wanted a green-house on the north side it would only be necessary to set up a few looking-glasses to pour a blazing sun upon it all day long.  You might need a little clockwork to keep them adjusted at the right angles, but Yankee invention ought to be equal to that.  I have no doubt we shall see patent sunshine-distributors in the market very shortly if your idea gets abroad; in fact, I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that a company proposed to set up mammoth reflectors to keep the sun from setting at all until he drops into the Pacific Ocean.”

[Illustration:  GLASS OF MANY COLORS, SHAPES AND SIZES.]

“Well, you may laugh at my invention; I shall surely try it when I am obliged to live in a house that does not get sunlight in the regular way.  As for the stained glass picture over the chimney-piece, I should like it for the bright color and because the lamps would make it so charming from the street outside.  I shall also want colored glass in the upper part of the bay windows.  The architect says we can have it and still keep the lower panes clear and large.  He sends some sketches by way of suggestion, and thinks we may use it in the lower part of some of the windows to conceal a window-seat or other furniture.  I should prefer screens of some other kind in such places, keeping the stained glass up where it would show against the sky.  He says this colored glass is not necessarily expensive; that it may be set in common wood-sash or in lead-sash, as we please, and that it will not affect the usual opening and closing of the windows.  He advises plate-glass for the larger lights, if we can afford it, not because it gives the house a more elegant appearance, though that is not a wholly unworthy motive, but because a beautiful landscape is so much more beautiful when it can be plainly seen.  The instinct that prompts us to throw the window wide open in order to get a more satisfactory view is an unanswerable argument in favor of large, clear lights of glass for windows intended for outlooks.”

“And here is an illustration right before us,” said Jack.  “I am impelled by a powerful impulse to open the window and see if I can recognize the lady driving up the street.  It wouldn’t be good manners, but I wish the window was plate-glass.”

To Jack’s astonishment, however, Jill threw open the window and waved her handkerchief in cordial salutation as Aunt Jerusha drove slowly up to the house.  “Doing her own work” for half a century had not rendered her incapable of taking and enjoying a carriage ride of fifteen miles alone to visit her niece.

Like all wise people who are able to give advice, Aunt Jerusha offered none until it was asked, and then gave only in small doses.  She had never seen the house that Jack built, but had heard much of it from the friends and relatives who had never underrated Jill’s obstinacy in refusing to accept it as a permanent home.