"Yes, the inside is rather nice," Jessie acknowledged; "but the outside might be improved. I have my own notion about the porch and the front door."
George turned to her, as if to ask what that notion might be.
Other friends followed—Brower among them.
He went about rather shyly, looking at the draperies and grilles and mirrors. In the semi-gloom of the dining-room he threw his arm over Ogden's shoulder and looked into his eye with a friendly and affectionate smile.
"I never expected you to do it," he said. "You have left me as lonesome as the deuce."
"Ho it? Why not?"
"Because you're so careful; you always think things out—regular old Puritan sage."
"Oh, well," began George, with the air proper to a launching out into a broad and easy generalization, "aren't we New England Puritans the cream of the Anglo-Saxon race? And why does the Anglo-Saxon race rule the globe except because the individual Anglo-Saxon can rule himself?"
"Oh, I know," said Brower, discontentedly; "that's all right, up to a certain point."
Others came, among them the Valentines.