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Page 58
One year is a reasonable length of time for building a common
dwelling-house. Twelve months from the day the workmen appeared to dig
the foundation trenches the last pile of builder's rubbish was taken
away and the new, clean, bright, naked, empty house stood ready for the
first load of furniture. If the social and domestic tastes of Jack and
Jill have been even slightly indicated, it is unnecessary to say that
this first load did not consist of the brightest and best products of
the most fashionable manufacturers. Aunt Melville had sent a few
ornaments and two or three elegant trifles in the way of furniture, a
chair or two in which no one could sit without danger of mutual broken
limbs, and a table that, like many another frail beauty, might enjoy
being supported but could never bear any heavier burden than a
card-basket, and was liable to be upset by the vigorous use of
dust-brush or broom. "They will help to furnish your rooms," said the
generous aunt, "and will give a certain style that cannot be attained
with furniture that is simply useful."
[Illustration: THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.]
The ornaments that were ornamental and nothing more Jill accepted
gratefully. The furniture that must be protected to preserve its
beauty, and generally avoided lest it should be broken, she returned,
begging her aunt to give it to some one having a larger house.
On one of those perfect days that are so rare, even in June, Bessie
appeared in all the glory of the lilies. To Jill's surprise, her first
remark after the customary effusive greeting was, "How _lovely_ it is
to have a home of your own. I shouldn't care if it was made of slabs
and shaped like a wigwam. Of course, _this_ house is exquisite. I knew
it would be, but it is ten times as large as I should want. It will be
_so_ much work to take care of it."
"I don't expect to take care of it alone."
"I know you don't, but I should want to take care of my own house, if I
had one, every bit of it. Oh, you needn't look so amazed. I know what I
am saying. I have learned to cook, and dust, and sweep, and kindle
fires, and polish, silver, and--and black stoves!"
No wonder Jill was dumb while Bessie went on at a breathless rate.
"And do you know, Jill dear, I wouldn't take this house if you would
give it to me. There! I would a thousand times rather have a little bit
of a cottage, just large enough for--for two people, and everything in
it just as cosy and simple as it could be. Then we--then I could learn
to paint and decorate--I've learned a little already--and embroider and
such things, and slowly, very slowly, you know, I would fill the house
with pretty things that would belong to it and be a part of it, and a
part of me, too, because I made them."
"Wouldn't it be much cheaper and better to hire some skillful artist to
do these things?" said Jill, taking refuge in matter-of-fact.
[Illustration: THE SECOND FLOOR OF THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT.]
"If I hired any one of course it would be an artist, but our homes are
not dear to us because they are beautiful, it is because they are
_ours_, because we have worked for them and in them until they are a
part of ourselves. I love artistic things as well as I ever did, but
there are some things that are ten thousand times lovelier."
Before Jill had recovered from her astonishment at Bessie's transformed
sentiments or imagined their cause, who should drive up but Aunt
Jerusha. She and Bessie had never met before, but the mysterious laws
of affinity, that pay no regard to outward circumstances or
expectations, brought them at once into the warmest sympathy. Jill had
provided extremely pretty china for her table, and for Bessie's sake
had brought out certain rare pieces not intended for every-day use. It
was contrary to her rule to make any difference between "every-day" and
"company days." "Nothing is too good for Jack," was the basis of her
argument. The one exception was china. But Bessie was absolutely
indifferent to the frail and costly pottery. She was intent on learning
domestic wisdom from Aunt Jerusha, and insisted upon writing in her
note-book the recipes for everything she ate and recording the rules
for carrying on whatever household matters chanced to be mentioned,
from waxing floors to canning tomatoes. Jack strove to enliven the
conversation by throwing in elaborate remarks upon the true sphere of
women, the uncertainty of matrimonial ventures and the deceitfulness of
mankind in general. Jill meanwhile preserved her equanimity upon all
points relating to her house. She admitted the force of Aunt
Jerusha's suggestion that a portion of the long serving-table in the
kitchen should be movable and a door made from kitchen to china-closet,
to be kept locked, as a rule, but available in an emergency, when one
or both servants were sick or discharged; she appreciated her advice to
form the habit of washing the silver and fine glasses with her own
hands before leaving the table; she was able to repeat her favorite
recipes correctly; she carved gracefully, as a lady ought, and gave due
attention to her guests. Beyond these duties she was in a state of
bewilderment. What had happened to Bessie, and what new mischief Jack
was incubating were puzzles she could neither solve nor dismiss.
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