No wonder Jill was dumb while Bessie went on at a breathless rate.

“And do you know, Jill dear, I wouldn’t take this house if you would give it to me.  There!  I would a thousand times rather have a little bit of a cottage, just large enough for—­for two people, and everything in it just as cosy and simple as it could be.  Then we—­then I could learn to paint and decorate—­I’ve learned a little already—­and embroider and such things, and slowly, very slowly, you know, I would fill the house with pretty things that would belong to it and be a part of it, and a part of me, too, because I made them.”

“Wouldn’t it be much cheaper and better to hire some skillful artist to do these things?” said Jill, taking refuge in matter-of-fact.

[Illustration:  THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.]

“If I hired any one of course it would be an artist, but our homes are not dear to us because they are beautiful, it is because they are ours, because we have worked for them and in them until they are a part of ourselves.  I love artistic things as well as I ever did, but there are some things that are ten thousand times lovelier.”

Before Jill had recovered from her astonishment at Bessie’s transformed sentiments or imagined their cause, who should drive up but Aunt Jerusha.  She and Bessie had never met before, but the mysterious laws of affinity, that pay no regard to outward circumstances or expectations, brought them at once into the warmest sympathy.  Jill had provided extremely pretty china for her table, and for Bessie’s sake had brought out certain rare pieces not intended for every-day use.  It was contrary to her rule to make any difference between “every-day” and “company days.”  “Nothing is too good for Jack,” was the basis of her argument.  The one exception was china.  But Bessie was absolutely indifferent to the frail and costly pottery.  She was intent on learning domestic wisdom from Aunt Jerusha, and insisted upon writing in her note-book the recipes for everything she ate and recording the rules for carrying on whatever household matters chanced to be mentioned, from waxing floors to canning tomatoes.  Jack strove to enliven the conversation by throwing in elaborate remarks upon the true sphere of women, the uncertainty of matrimonial ventures and the deceitfulness of mankind in general.  Jill meanwhile preserved her equanimity upon all points relating to her house.  She admitted the force of Aunt Jerusha’s suggestion that a portion of the long serving-table in the kitchen should be movable and a door made from kitchen to china-closet, to be kept locked, as a rule, but available in an emergency, when one or both servants were sick or discharged; she appreciated her advice to form the habit of washing the silver and fine glasses with her own hands before leaving the table; she was able to repeat her favorite recipes correctly; she carved gracefully, as a lady ought, and gave due attention to her guests.  Beyond these duties she was in a state of bewilderment.  What had happened to Bessie, and what new mischief Jack was incubating were puzzles she could neither solve nor dismiss.