The House that Jill Built by E. C. Gardner


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Page 54




CHAPTER XVII.

THE RIGHT SIDE OF PAINT; A PROTEST AND A PROMISE.


Jack's benevolent ambition to distribute their superfluous plans among
those in need of such aids was strengthened by the receipt of another
roll of drawings, showing designs for the interior work, wainscots,
cornices, architraves, paneled ceilings and such wood finishings as are
commonly found in houses that are built in conventional fashion, with
lathed and plastered walls, trimmed at all corners and openings with
wood more or less elaborately wrought. Of course, it was a large
condescension in the architect to offer such a variety, and contrary to
his avowed determination to decide without appeal all questions of
construction and design, but he appreciated his clients and knew when
to break his own rules and when to insist upon their observance. If
Jill, had required an assortment he would doubtless have suggested that
certain "practical" builders could furnish a full line of ready-made
"artistic" patterns for little more than the cost of the paper on which
they were printed; from these he would have advised her to select her
own designs, as she might have chosen from a medicine chest
sweet-smelling drops or sugar-coated pills of varying hue and
form--the result would doubtless he as satisfactory in one case as in
the other. Since she had not demanded it as an inalienable right he
gave her an opportunity to criticise and select, which she accepted by
no means unwillingly. As a rule, the designs were, in her opinion, too
elaborate and obtrusive. There were too many mouldings, there was too
much carving, and too evident a purpose to provide a finish that should
challenge attention by its extent or elegance. It would require too
much labor to keep it in order, and--it would cost too much. If she
could not have work that was truly artistic, and therefore enduringly
beautiful, whatever changes of fashion might occur, it was her wish to
keep all the essential part of the building and finish modestly in the
background, not attempting to make it ornamental, but relying upon the
furniture for whatever conspicuous ornament or decoration might be
desired. Nothing annoyed her more than an elegantly-finished house
scantily provided with shabby, incongruous and misapplied furniture.
The amiable concession of the architect came near causing a fatal
quarrel, as amiable concessions are apt to do, for he found it almost
impossible to satisfy Jill's taste in the direction of simplicity; he
seemed to feel that he was neglecting his duty if he gave her plain,
narrow bands of wood absolutely devoid of all design beyond a
designation of their width and thickness. Any carpenter's boy could
make such plans. "It would be worse," he wrote, "than prescribing bread
pills and 'herb drink' for a sick man." To which Jill replied in
substance that the needs of the patient are more important than
professional rules.

[Illustration: BITS OF CORNICES.]

Over the first great question, regarding the visible wood work of the
interior, Jack and Jill had held many protracted discussions: should
any of it be painted, or should all the wood be left to show its
natural graining and color? To the argument that unpainted wood is not
only "natural" but strictly genuine and more interesting than paint,
Jack replied that "natural" things are not always beautiful; that
paint, which makes no pretense of being anything but paint, is as
genuine as shellac or varnish, and that if the object is to be
interesting, the bark, the knots, the worm-holes, and, if possible, the
worms themselves should be displayed. "Besides," said he, "if we decide
on hard wood, who shall choose the kinds? There's beech, birch and
maple; cherry, whitewood and ebony; ash and brown ash and white ash and
black ash; ditto oak, drawn and quartered; there's rosewood, redwood,
gopherwood and wormwood; mahogany, laurel, holly and mistletoe; cedar
of Lebanon and pine of Georgia, not to mention chestnut, walnut,
butternut, cocoanut and peanut, all of which are popular and available
woods for finishing modern dwellings. If we choose from this list,
which may be indefinitely extended, the few kinds for which we can find
room in our house, we shall be tormented with regret as long as we both
do live because we didn't choose something else. Now if we paint,
behold how simple a thing it is! We buy a lot of white pine boards, put
them up where they belong and paint them in whatever unnamable hues the
prevailing fashion may chance to dictate. Our boards need not even be
of the best quality; an occasional piece of sound sap, a few hard
knots, or now and then a 'snoodledog'--as they say in Nantucket--would
do no harm. A prudent application of shellac and putty before painting
will make everything right. Then if the fashions change, or if we
should be refined beyond our present tastes and wish to go up higher,
all we should need to lift the house to the same elevated plane
is--another coat of paint. On the other hand, if we had a room finished
in old English oak, growing blacker and blacker every year; in mahogany
or in cheap and mournful black walnut, what could we do if the
imperious mistress of the world should decree light colors? With rare,
pale, faded tints on the walls our strong, bold, heavy hard-wood finish
would be painful in the extreme. We couldn't change the wood and we
couldn't change the fashion."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 27th Jan 2026, 17:50