This was a new idea to me, and I looked into it with some interest.  I knew that Jane was deft with her fingers, but I did not know that she had a special wish to cultivate this deftness or to put it to practical use.

“What can you do with a forge?” said I.  “You can’t shoe the horses or sharpen the ploughs.  Can you make nails?  They are machine-made now, and you couldn’t earn ten cents a week, even at horse-shoe nails.”

“I don’t want to make nails, Dad; I want to work in copper and brass, and iron, too, but in girl fashion.  Mary Town has a forge in Hartford, and I spent lots of Saturdays with her.  She says that I am cleverer than she is, but of course she was jollying me, for she makes beautiful things; but I can learn, and it’s great fun.”

“What kind of things does this young lady make, dear?”

“Lamp-shades, paper-knives, hinges, bag-tops, buckles, and lots of things.  She could sell them, too, if she had to.  It’s like learning a trade, Dad.”

“All right, child, you shall have a forge, if you will agree not to burn yourself up.  Do you roll up your sleeves and wear a leather apron?”

“Why, of course, just like a blacksmith; only mine will be of soft brown leather and pinked at the edges.”

So Jane was to have her forge.  We selected a site for it at once in the grove to the east of the house and about 150 yards away, and set the carpenter at work.  The shop proved to be a feature of the place, and soon became a favorite resort for old and young for five o’clock teas and small gossiping parties.  The house was a shingled cottage, sixteen by thirty-two, divided into two rooms.  The first room, sixteen by twenty, was the company room, but it contained a work bench as well as the dainty trappings of a girl’s lounging room.  In the centre of the wall that separated the rooms was a huge brick chimney, with a fireplace in the front room and a forge bed in the rear room, which was the forge proper.

I suppose I must charge the $460 which this outfit cost to the farm account and pay yearly interest on it, for it is a fixture; but I protest that it is not essential to the construction of a factory farm, and it may be omitted by those who have no daughter Jane.

There were other things hinging on Jane’s home-staying which made me think that, from the standpoint of economy, I had made a mistake in not sending her back to Farmington.  It was not long before the dog proposition was sprung upon me; insidiously at first, until I had half committed myself, and then with such force and sweep as to take me off my prudent feet.  My own faithful terrier, which had dogged my heels for three years, seemed a member of the family, and reasonably satisfied my dog needs.  That Jane should wish a terrier of some sort to tug at her skirts and claw her lace was no more than natural, and I was quite willing to buy a blue blood and think nothing of the $20 or $30 which it might cost.  We canvassed the list of terriers,—­bull, Boston, fox, Irish, Skye, Scotch, Airedale, and all,—­and had much to say in favor of each.  One day Jane said:—­