of roof
garden. Wouldn't it be picturesque and pretty?"

"But there is no door from your room to the roof of the sun parlor,"
objected Burton.

"No, but the window is very wide. I will just cover it with portieres
and things, and I am quite active so I can get in and out very nicely.
And when I get around to it, and have the money, I may have a French
window put in."

"But, Eveley, I can't build a stairway. I don't know how to build
anything. I couldn't build a box."

"But you do not have to do this alone, Burtie. Just the foundation, that
is all I expect of you. You will have lots of assistance. Not experienced
help perhaps, but enthusiastic, and 'love goes in with every nail,'--that
sort of thing. I have sent invitations to all of my friends of the
masculine persuasion, and we have started a competition. Each admirer is
to build two steps according to his own design and plan, and the one who
builds most artistically is to receive, not my hand and heart, but a
lovely dinner cooked on my grill in my private dining-room. I have the
list here. I figured that twelve steps will be enough. Nolan Inglish,
two. Lieutenant Ames, two. Captain Hardin, two. Jimmy Weaver, two. Dick
Fairwether, two. Arnold Bender, two. Arnold is Kitty's beau, but she
guaranteed two steps for him. Won't it be lovely?"

"To-morrow being Saturday afternoon," said Burton bitterly.

"I ordered the rustic lumber last night, and it was delivered to-day."

"And you consider it my duty as the luckless husband of your
long-suffering sister, to lay the foundation for the wabbly, rattly
ramshackle stairs your pet assortment of moonstruck admirers will build
for you?"

"Not your duty, Burtie, certainly not your duty. But your pleasure and
your great joy. For without the stairway, I can not live there. And if I
do not live there, I must live here. And remember. When you want
vaudeville, I will incline to grand opera. When you would enjoy a movie,
I shall have a musicale here at home. When you are in the midst of a
novel, I shall insist on a three-handed game of bridge. When you are
ready to shave, I shall need the hot water. When your appetite calls for
corned beef and cabbage, my soul shall require lettuce sandwiches and
iced tea. Not your duty, dear, by any means. I do not believe in duty."

"Quite right, sweet sister," he said pleasantly. "It shall afford me
infinite pleasure, I assure you. And to-morrow being Saturday afternoon,
you shall have you