color of the east wind, so to
speak?"

"Not in the least. You know perfectly well, Jack, that insincerity is
the bane of domestic and social life; that hypocrisy is a child of the
Evil One, and that vain and false pretensions are the fatal lures that
lead us on to destruction. How can we respect ourselves or expect our
friends to respect us if the most conspicuous thing in the house is a
palpable fraud?"

"Very well, dear, I'll bring up a can of nitro-glycerine to-morrow and
blow the whole establishment into the middle of futurity. Meanwhile,
let us see if anything can be done to make it endurable a few hours
longer."

Dropping on his knees in front of the fictitious fireplace, Jack pulled
the paper from the wall, disclosing a sheet-iron stove-pipe receiver,
set there for a time of need, and communicating in some mysterious way
with a sooty smoke flue. Having found this, he telephoned to the stove
store for a portable grate--that is to say, a Franklin stove with
ornamental tiles in the face of it--and in less than an hour the room
was radiant with the blaze of a hickory fire, while a hitherto unknown
warmth came to the lifeless marble from its new neighbor. By sitting
directly in front of it Jill discovered that in appearance the general
effect was nearly as good as that of a genuine fireplace, the warmth
diffused being decidedly greater.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," said she, after they had sat a while in
silence enjoying the ameliorating influence of the blaze, "but I _do_
hate a humbug. We will let this stove stand here all summer to remind
you that neither your house nor your wife is perfect, and to keep me
warm when the east wind blows."

[Illustration: WARMTH UNDER THE WINDOW.]

Jack's response to this magnanimous remark must be omitted, as it had
no direct bearing upon house-building.

"When I went into the kitchen this morning to get warm," Jill observed
later in the evening, "I found Bridget ironing; the stove was red-hot,
the bath boiler was bubbling and shaking with the imprisoned steam, and
the outside door was wide open. It struck me that there was heat enough
going out of doors, not to mention the superheated air of the kitchen
itself, to have made the whole house comfortable such days as this, if
it could only be saved. Don't you think it would be possible to attach
a pipe to some part of the cooking-range that would carry steam or hot
water to the front of the house. We shouldn't want it when