lding are two squash courts, a racquet court, a court
tennis court, and a bowling alley. But the feature of the guest building
is a glass-roofed and enclosed riding ring--not big enough for games of
polo, but big enough for practise in winter,--built along one entire side
of it.

The stables are full of polo ponies and hunters, the garage full of cars,
the boathouse has every sort of boat--sailboats, naphtha launches, a motor
boat and even a shell. Every amusement is open-heartedly offered, in fact,
especially devised for the guests.

At the main house there is a ballroom with a stage at one end. An
orchestra plays every night. New moving pictures are shown and vaudeville
talent is imported from New York. This is the extreme of luxury in
entertaining. As Mrs. Toplofty said at the end of a bewilderingly lavish
party: "How are any of us ever going to amuse any one after _this_? I feel
like doing my guest rooms up in moth balls."

No one, however, has discovered that invitations to Mrs. Toplofty's are
any less welcome. Besides, excitement-loving youth and exercise-devotees
were never favored guests at the Hudson Manor anyway.

=THE SMALL HOUSE OF PERFECTION=

It matters not in the slightest whether the guest room's carpet is
Aubusson or rag, whether the furniture is antique, or modern, so long as
it is pleasing of its kind. On the other hand, because a house is little
is no reason that it can not be as perfect in every detail--perhaps more
so--as the palace of the multiest millionaire!

The attributes of the perfect house can not be better represented than by
Brook Meadows Farm, the all-the-year home of the Oldnames. Nor can
anything better illustrate its perfection than an incident that actually
took place there.

A great friend of the Oldnames, but not a man who went at all into
society, or considered whether people had position or not, was invited
with his new wife--a woman from another State and of much wealth and
discernment--to stay over a week-end at Brook Meadows. Never having met
the Oldnames, she asked something about their house and life in order to
decide what type of clothes to pack.

"Oh, it's just a little farmhouse. Oldname wears a dinner coat, of course;
his wife wears--I don't know what--but I have never seen her dressed up a
bit!"

"Evidently plain people," thought his wife. And aloud: "I wonder what
evening dress I have that is high enough. I can put in the black lace day
dress; perhaps I h