But what rose is without its thorn? In the course of a few days the word went about, among the very large class to whom everything is fuel for the flame of gossip, that a lot of the Grand Army men had been taken into the Somerton house, and found it a palace, the things in which must have cost thousands of dollars, and that it was a shame and an outrage that money should have been made out of the poor, overworked country people to support two young stuck-ups from the city in more luxury than Queen Elizabeth ever dreamed of; for who ever read in history books of Queen Elizabeth having ice-cream? and didn't the history books say that she had only rushes on her floors, instead of even a rag carpet, to say nothing of picture carpets like the Somertons'?
When the rumor reached the store, Philip ground his teeth, but Grace laughed.
"I believe you'd laugh, even if they called your husband a swindler," said Philip.
"Indeed I would, at anything so supremely ridiculous," Grace said. "Wouldn't you, Caleb?"
"I reckon I would. Anyhow, it sounds a mighty sight better than the noise Philip made; besides, it's healthier for the teeth. It shows 'em off better, too."
"Now, Mr. Crosspatch, how do you feel?"
"Utterly crushed. But what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to make those gossips ashamed of themselves."
"How?"
"By refurnishing the parlor for the summer. The dust is ruining our nice things, so the change will be an economy. I'll do it so cheaply that almost any farmer in the county can afford to copy it, to the great delight of his wife, as well as himself. Let—me—see—" and Grace dropped her head over a bit of paper and a pencil, and Caleb looked at her admiringly, and winked profoundly at Philip, and then hurried into the back room so that his impending substitute for an ecstatic dance should not disturb the planner of the coming parlor decorations.