The House that Jill Built after Jacks had Proved a Failure | Page 5

had just built himself a new house, and thought his
sister could not do better than use the same plans, which he had "borrowed" from his
architect; and the third was from Aunt Melville, who was supposed (by herself) to hold
the family destiny in the hollow of her hand.
"For once," she wrote, "your father has done a most sensible thing. Every girl ought to
have a present of a new house on her wedding-day. You were very silly to make such a
fuss about the house that Jack built, for it is a very stylish-looking house, even if it isn't
quite so convenient inside; but of course you can improve upon it, and fortunately I can
contribute just what you need--the plans of the house that your Uncle Melville built for
George last year. It isn't as large as it ought to be, but it will suit you and Jack admirably.
You must tell me how much you have to spend. This house can be very prettily built for
eight or ten thousand dollars, and if you haven't as much as that you must ask for more.
The hall is decidedly stylish, and, with the library at one side and drawing-room at the
other, you will have just room enough for your little social parties. The room behind the
drawing-room Jack needs for his private use, his study, office, smoking-room or
whatever he calls it--a place to keep his gun, his top-boots, his fishing-rod and his horrid
pipes; where he can revel to his heart's content in the hideous disorder of a 'man's room,'
pile as much rubbish as he likes on the table, lock the doors and defy the rest of the
household on house-cleaning days. The dining-room is good and the kitchen
arrangements are perfect. George's wife has changed servants but three times since they
began housekeeping, nearly a year ago, which certainly proves that there is every
possible convenience for doing work easily. The outside of the house is not wholly
satisfactory. There should be a tower, and you must put one on somewhere."

[Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S FIRST FLOOR.]
[Illustration: COUSIN GEORGE'S SECOND FLOOR.]
Then followed several pages of advice about furnishings and a postscript announced that
Colonel Livingston was charmed with the house and would probably build one like it for
Clara. The charm of Aunt Melville's advice lay in its abundant variety. It was new every
morning and fresh every evening. The latest thing was always the best. The plans of
to-morrow were certain to be better than those of yesterday.
Jill therefore made a careful study of the first installment, not doubting that others of
superior merit would be forthcoming. She found many things to approve. The hall
promised comfort and good cheer, whether stylish or not. The vista across through the
parlor bay and the wide library window would give a pleasant freedom and breadth. The
stairs were well placed, the second landing with its window of stained glass being
especially attractive, whether as a point of observation or as a cosy retreat, itself partly
visible from the hall below. Every chamber had a closet of its own, not to mention several
extra ones, and there was a place for every bed.
"As for your sanctum, Jack, I don't at all approve. It will be hard enough, I've no doubt, to
keep you from lapsing into barbarism, and I shall never allow you to set up a den, a
regular Bluebeard's room, all by yourself. I promise never to put your table in order, but I
wouldn't trust the best of men with the care of a closet or a bureau-drawer for a single
week, much less of an entire room with two closets, a case of drawers, a cupboard and a
chimney-piece. But the chief fault of the plan is that it doesn't happen to suit our lot. The
entrances are not right, the outlooks are not right, the chimneys are not right."
"Turn it around."
"And spoil it? No; I learned a second lesson on our journey, and it was well worth what it
cost. We shall never find a plan made for somebody else that will suit us."
"Not good enough?"
"It isn't a question of goodness--it's a question of fitness. Neither Cousin George's, nor
any other house I ever saw, is precisely what we need."
"Moral: Draw your own plans."
"We must, and we'll begin to-morrow."
"Why not this evening?"
"We couldn't see."
"Light the gas."
"Oh, but we must make the plans out of doors on the lot. We shall then know where

every room will be, every door and especially every window. We must fix the centre of
the sitting-room in the most commanding situation, and be certain that the dining-room
windows do not look straight into