“What, would you have Martha’s grate in among the flowers, and let her roast and fry there? That wouldn’t do.”
“No, no, uncle. Let the greenhouse be heated with hot-water pipes.”
“Well?”
“And connect them, as I said before, with the kitchen-boiler.”
“As I told Syme,” said the doctor.
“No, no, no,” cried Aunt Hannah, very decisively. “I’m quite sure that wouldn’t do; and I’m certain that Martha would not approve of it.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor. “I’m afraid our Martha does not approve of doing anything but what she likes. But that would not do, boy. I told Syme so, but he was hot over it—boiler-hot.”
“Well, then, let it be by means of a small boiler fitted somewhere at the side of the kitchen range, uncle; then the one fire will do everything; and, with the exception of a little cost at first, the greenhouse will always afterwards be heated for nothing.”
“Come, I like that idea,” said the doctor, rubbing his nose. “There’s something in that, eh, my dear? Sounds well.”
“Yes,” said Aunt Hannah, “it sounds very well, but so do all Vane’s plans; and, though I like to encourage him so long as he does not make too much mess, I must say that they seldom do anything else but sound.”