est suited to the exigencies of the country.
The result, consequently, was satisfying to eye and taste.

The walls of a desert house must be thick, for coolness. The lines of
the house must be broad and low and strong, to withstand the fearful
winds of late winter and early spring. The Ames house lay comfortably on
the desert as if it had grown up out of the sand and proposed to live
forever. It was as natural a part of the landscape as the sentinel
cactus.

Jane Ames, in a blue gingham dress, was standing in the door. She waved
both hands as she recognized Pen. When the machine stopped she took
Pen's bag.

"Of course I knew it was Bill's machine half an hour ago, but I didn't
know my luck had changed enough to bring you."

"I can stay over night," said Pen, like a child out of school.

"Come straight into the parlor bedroom," said Jane. "Bill, you'll find
Oscar in the lower corral."

Pen followed into the house. Jane led her through a vista of rooms into
the parlor, which was furnished with a complete "near" mahogany set in
green velvet. The parlor bedroom was furnished to match. Jane always
showed the people whose opinion she valued her parlor first that the
edge might be taken off the living room. After Pen had taken off her
hat, she followed her hostess kitchenward.

The living room was big and square, the original house. It contained a
wide adobe fireplace and its windows opened toward the orange grove. It
was furnished with tables and chairs that Mrs. Ames had bought from an
old mission in the neighborhood. They were hand-hewn and black with age.
The Navajo floor rugs were soft and well worn. Jane apologized for the
room, saying she left it old and ugly for the hired men and the
children, then she established Pen in a rocking chair in the kitchen.

The kitchen was a model of convenience, boasting running water as well
as a kitchen cabinet and a gasoline range.

"It took me just five years to raise enough chickens and eggs to buy the
cabinet and the range," said Jane, taking a peep at the bread in the
oven. "I begged and begged Oscar to get me things to work with every
time he sent to the mail-order house to get farm machinery. But he'd
just grunt. Finally I got mad. He had running water put in the barn and
wouldn't send it on up to the house. He went to San Francisco that fall
and I had men out here and put water in the kitchen. When he got back
the bill was waiting for him and he was ashamed to complain