The interior, she said, was a desecration of architecture as an ornamental science, a waste of room and a destruction of grace and beauty. Though John would not concede the waste of room, since every thing was built on a right angle plan and nothing appropriated room but the partition walls and a narrow stairway. The interior looked as though it were fashioned by artisans who were zealous disciples of a carpenter's square and who carried it about for insistent and perpetual use. She pointed out where many new windows must be cut or old ones enlarged and considerably modified in form.
"John, you and I must save our money for the next year, then we will have an architect give our modifications the sanction of his approval. We must not be too precipitate with alterations; living in the old house as it is a year, will settle just what we desire. In the meantime we can find plenty to do in the yard and garden.
"I have four thousand dollars in bank which I have been saving for you. We will use it to pay off the balance of the purchase price and to supplement my furniture, which is not more than half enough for the house.
"How happy we shall be planning and changing the house and grounds to suit our mutual fancy. It will be the second time for me. When your father was thirty we had saved three thousand dollars, just enough to buy a little home. Then we changed our plan and built one fresh and new. He died before the newness wore away and the place really looked like home. I believe your plan the better one; to buy an old home with a large front yard of great forest trees and a garden back of the kitchen, a house of substantial wall and foundation and living in it, as fancy dictates or need requires or purse affords, make your alterations; then the place grows from strangeness to sympathy and takes on individuality.
"These old cherry and pear trees we will make room for in our plans. But you must cut out the dead tops and spray the trees. We want even these old trees to look comfortable and happy. Oh, they are sickle pears and nearly ripe. Just such ones as grew on father's place near Middletown; and I, a girl in sun bonnet and gingham apron, climbed the trees or picked them from a ladder. I must have a sun bonnet again and some gingham aprons. When you come home in the evening I will stand erect or walk with a sprightly step as a young girl and the sun bonnet will hide my gray hair and pale face and you will say; 'I wonder who that slender country girl is out under the trees? I suppose mother has gone to the house for something.' When I turn round you will say; 'Why, it is little mother; the mountain air and sunshine and the garden are doing wonders for her.' John you are a good boy and you are helping too.
"Look, John, there's a whole row of snowball and lilac bushes, and here are some early yellow roses, and over there a border of golden glow and a bed of lilies of the valley, and yet further on some hardy lilies and peonies, and beyond the walk a strawberry bed and sage, and gooseberries and red raspberries and an arbor of grape vines and a rustic bench.
"We are at home, John. The garden makes me young again and I see your father's face in your own. It is as though God had given me the two in the one body. John, brush off the bench and let us sit here and watch the shadows lengthen and fade and the coming darkness add zest and brilliance to the full moon. Then we'll go to the house hand in hand and you can help with the supper. You are not too hungry to wait a bit, John?"
"No, mother."
They sat for some time in silence as the twilight deepened.
"Mrs. Neal and her niece, Dorothy Durrett, called today. You must take me over some evening to see them. I must not forget that you are a man and that some time you will be looking for a wife. You must go out occasionally, else you will appear awkward in the presence of young ladies or be considered a crank."