Thank you," said Corona, faintly.

"How does she set?" asked the builder.

"Who set?" said Corona, a little wildly. She could think of nothing that
set but hens.

"Why, the house. Where's the points o' compass?"

"I hadn't thought of those," said Corona.

"And the chimney," suggested the builder. "Where's your chimneys?"

"I didn't put in any chimneys," said Corona.

"Where did you count on your stairs?" pursued the builder.

"Stairs? I--forgot the stairs."

"That's natural," said Mr. Timbers. "Had a plan brought me once without
an entry or a window to it. It wasn't a woman did it, neither. It was a
widower, in the noospaper line. What's your scale?"

"Scale?" asked Corona, without animation.

"Scale of feet. Proportions."

"Oh! I didn't have any scales, but I thought about forty feet front
would do. I have but five hundred dollars. A small house must answer."

The builder smiled. He said he would show her some plans. He took a book
from his table and opened at a plate representing a small, snug cottage,
not uncomely. It stood in a flourishing apple-orchard, and a much larger
house appeared dimly in the distance, upon a hill. The cottage was what
is called a "story-and-half" and contained six rooms. The plan was drawn
with the beauty of science.

"There," said Mr. Timbers, "I know a lady built one of those upon her
brother-in-law's land. He give her the land, and she just put up the
cottage, and they was all as pleasant as pease about it. That's about
what I'd recommend to you, if you don't object to the name of it."

"What is the matter with the name?" asked Corona.

"Why," said the builder, hesitating, "it is called the Old Maid's
House--in the _book_."

"Mr. Timbers," said Corona, with decision, "why should we seek further
than the truth? I will have that house. Pray, draw me the plan at
once."

DISTICHS

BY JOHN HAY

I

Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her.
This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not.

II

There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming
are going,
When they seem going they come: Diplomates, women, and crabs.

III

Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recollection,
As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea.

IV

As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them,
Men for a title to-day crawl to the f