He was interested, in spite of himself, and began to help her plan it. There was no difference of opinion, even in the smallest detail, and room by room, and floor by floor, they furnished their imaginary castle. On the very top of the tower, the Stars and Stripes would always flutter—"because it's the most beautiful flag in the world," with a little choke in her voice, "and it means the most."
Only a week before he had attended that offensive reception, and he was thinking of the contrast now. The men that night had spoken with an affected English drawl, and the girls were all "going abroad for the summer."
And to-night he had forgotten his bank and mining stocks, and was sitting by a driftwood fire with a girl who had childish dreams of building a house, and choked when she spoke of the flag.
"And the doors should open forever, and ever, to all who had done anything noble in the world, or had tried to do it."
With a little lingering sigh, she stretched her white hands towards the flames. The House Beautiful was finished, but she was still dreaming.
He repeated her thought mentally: "The doors should be open forever, and ever, to all who had done anything noble in the world, or had tried to do it." Would that bar him out? He turned uneasily in his chair.
Mrs. Kitson returned, and he felt that he must say something: "You should have gone to college," he ventured, in a tone which was meant to be both fatherly and cheerful.
She rose smilingly and bade him good night. "I am a graduate of Vassar," she said simply.
A day or two later his heart fluttered gladly when the mail brought him a check for his sketch, and a request to submit further manuscript.
He shut himself up in his room for a whole day and tried to work, but a far-away clack-clack grated on his nerves and made him irritable. He went off for a tramp and on his return found Miss Wheeler sitting on the porch.