a wrought iron frame beside a fragile stand that carries a half dozen of still more fragile ‘hand-painted’ teacups and saucers; lambrequins and heavy curtains at all the windows and most of the doors, a big combination gas and electric chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling, bedangled with jumping jacks, Christmas cards, straw ornaments and other artistic ‘curious’; one or two small tables scattered ‘promiscous like’ about the room; a music stand and a banjo; with photographs, chromos, oil paintings, water colors and etchings, from one to three feet square, in gilt, enameled and wooden frames of all styles and degrees of fitness on the walls of the room,—­take a room furnished in this way or a great deal more so, and compare it with another of the same actual dimensions furnished in the old-fashioned way and see which is the larger.  The modern furnishing may be ‘cozy,’ oppressively cozy when there are half a dozen people trying to move gracefully around and between it without upsetting or destroying anything, but what sort of hospitality can we offer our guests if they must be always afraid of breaking something valuable if they stir?”

“Why not have a bonfire and liquidate some of this superfluous stock?”

“It is not superfluous; all these things, if they are good add to the enjoyment of living, if we have room for them and are able to take good care of them without neglecting weightier matters.  Our own rooms are not large enough.  However, if we cannot enlarge them we can build new ones for special purposes.  For one, we must have a children’s workroom.  If Jack is going to be an artist, and you know he shows decided talent, and Bessie an architect, there’s no doubt of her having real genius in that direction, they should have one room immediately, and two by and by, for their own exclusive use.  A room where they could keep all their books, and tools and toys, and where they could work in their own spontaneous, untrammeled way.”

“You mean a nursery.”

“No, I do not mean a nursery, but a workshop, study, gymnasium, call it anything you please.  The floor should be smooth and hard, and the walls should be wainscoted with smooth, hard wood.  There should be blackboards and shelves at the sides, and the children should be allowed to drive nails wherever they please.  I am not sure but I would have a sink and a water faucet.”

“Not unless the room is in the cellar or has a floor tight enough for a swimming tank.  Well, what next?”

“We must have a hospital.”

“For inebriates or the insane?”

“A room similar to the private wards in a hospital.  You know our own and the children’s sleeping rooms are very simply furnished, but a sick room should be still more severe.  The children have both had the measles, thank goodness, and I hope they never will have smallpox, scarlet fever, or diphtheria, but if they should it would be necessary to send them away from home or run the risk of their exposing one another.”