The House that Jill Built after Jacks had Proved a Failure | Page 4

to name the happy
day till the poor, patient fellow had kept bachelor's hall nearly a year. At last, in
consideration of an unqualified permission to "make the house over" to any extent, the
rough place that threatened to upset them was made smooth. Her father's present, wisely
withheld till peace was declared, left nothing to be desired, and they started on their
wedding journey as happy as if they owned the universe. This excursion, however, came
near being a failure from the sentimental standpoint, because, wherever Jill discovered a
house that gave any outward sign of inward grace, it must be visited and examined as to
its internal arrangements. Naturally this struck Jack as an unromantic diversion, but he
soon caught the spirit, and after much practice gave his salutatory address with apparent
eagerness:

"My wife and I happen to be passing through town and have been struck by the
appearance of your house. Will you kindly allow us to have a glimpse of the interior?"
The request was invariably granted, for nothing is more gratifying than the fame of
having the "finest house in town." Unhappily the interiors were never satisfactory to Jill,
and her valedictory to the owners of the striking houses seldom went beyond thanks for
their courtesy.
"We visited several houses on our trip," she observed to her father--
"Several hundred," said Jack--
"But were disappointed in them all. Many of them must have cost more than ours will
cost, but the money seemed to us foolishly spent."
"Yes," said her husband, "we concluded that the chief plank in the platform of the
architects and builders was 'Millions for display--not one cent for comfort.'"
"Well, Jack, we have learned one thing on our travels--where not to look for the plans of
our house."
A box of letters from her dear five hundred friends awaited Jill's return, and a whole
afternoon was devoted to them. Each letter contained some allusion to the new house. At
least ten conveyed underscored advice of the most vital importance, which, if not
followed, would demoralize the servants, distress her husband and ultimately destroy her
domestic peace. Taken at a single dose, the counsel was confusing, to say the least; but
Jill read it faithfully, laid it away for future reference, and gave the summary to her
husband somewhat as follows:
"It appears, Jack, my dear, to be absolutely indispensable to our future happiness that the
house shall front north, south, east and west."
"Let's build it on a pivot."
"We must not have large halls to keep warm in cold weather, and we must have large
halls 'for style.' The stories must not be less than eleven nor more than nine feet high. It
must be carpeted throughout and all the floors must be bare. It must be warmed by steam
and hot water and furnaces and fireplaces and base-burners and coal grates."
"We shan't have to go away from home to get into purgatory, shall we?"
"Hush! The walls of the rooms must be calcimined, painted, frescoed and papered; they
must be dyed in the mortar, finished with leather, with tiles, with tapestry and with solid
wood panels. There must be blinds--outside blinds, awnings, inside shutters, rolling
blinds, Venetian shades and no blinds at all. There must be wide, low-roofed piazzas all
around the house, so that we can live out of doors in the summer, and on no account must
the sun be excluded from the windows of the first story by piazza roofs. At least eight
patent sanitary plumbing articles, and as many cooking ranges, are each the only one safe

and fit to be used. The house must be high and low--"
"I'm Jack and you shall be game--"
[Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S EXTERIOR.]
"It must be of bricks, wood and stone, separately and in combination; it must be Queen
Anne, Gothic, French, Japanesque and classic American, and it must be painted all the
colors of an autumn landscape."
"Well, there's one comfort," said Jack; "you haven't paid for this advice, so you won't be
obliged to take it in order to save it."
"I should think not, indeed, but that isn't the trouble. These letters are from my special
friends, wise, practical people, who know everything about building and housekeeping,
and they speak from solemn conviction based on personal experience."
"Moral: When the doctors differ, do as you please."
Three of the letters, reserved for the last on account of their unusual bulk, contained
actual plans. One was from an old school friend who had married an architect and
couldn't afford to send a wedding present, but offered the plans as a sort of apology,
privately feeling that they would be the most valuable of all the gifts; the second was
from a married brother in Kansas who