"No, we won't," Charles said firmly. "And it's not just a summer resort. We're pulling up stakes to live there all year round."
Betty gasped.
Cousin Aurelia straightened up, bristling.
"I have made up my mind," Charles went on. "I have done a lot of serious thinking." He pointed at the heavily framed neo-daguerreotype portraits on the walls. "Our ancestors rediscovered the only true principles, those of the great Nineteenth Century. They brought the Second Victorian Age into being. Civilization reached its peak, its full flowering. But now all is crumbling before the poisonous onslaught of modernism. We who have not been corrupted must seek out a refuge. That, Cousin, is why I bought Sugar Plum."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Cousin Aurelia. "There may be changes everywhere else, but never in Boston."
"Ha!" Charles looked at his watch. "Solomon!" he called out.
The butler came bowing out of the DoItAll nook, where the servants stayed when they were switched off. He wore a swallowtail coat and knee-breeches, and had kinky white hair. Made to order, he was Cousin Aurelia's idea.
