For some weeks we examined into every style of economic and respectable housekeeping, and many methods of living in what Euphemia called “imitation comfort” were set aside as unworthy of consideration.
“My dear,” said Euphemia, one evening, “what we really ought to do is to build. Then we would have exactly the house we want.”
“Very true,” I replied; “but to build a house, a man must have money.”
“Oh no!” said she, “or at least not much. For one thing, you might join a building association. In some of those societies I know that you only have to pay a dollar a week.”
“But do you suppose the association builds houses for all its members?” I asked.
“Of course I suppose so. Else why is it called a building association?”
I had read a good deal about these organizations, and I explained to Euphemia that a dollar a week was never received by any of them in payment for a new house.
“Then build yourself,” she said; “I know how that can be done.”
“Oh, it's easy enough,” I remarked, “if you have the money.”
“No, you needn't have any money,” said Euphemia, rather hastily. “Just let me show you. Supposing, for instance, that you want to build a house worth—well, say twenty thousand dollars, in some pretty town near the city.”