“Of course.”
“Don’t you think so? Then we’ll do it. Two rooms,—let me see.” And the wily old captain seemed to reflect. “As the rooms would be of only one story, the pitch should be high,—better artistic effect, you know.”
“Undoubtedly,” acquiesced Charley. And the crafty engineer meditated as to how to run his next and last parallel.
“But what kind of a room shall the second be? The first will be our Library, and, in case of a pinch, an extra guest-chamber, of course. But what are we to do with the second room? There’s the rub.”
“That’s a fact,” granted Charley between puffs; and the twain were silent for a little while.
“By Jove, I have it!” exclaimed my grandfather, slapping his thigh.
Charley looked up.
“We’ll make a ball-room of it.”
“A ball-room! Good Lord, Uncle Tom!” cried Charley, surprised, for a moment, out of his habitual calm.
“Why not?” asked Mr. Whacker, appealing with his eyes from Charley to me, and from me to Charley. “Why not a ball-room? Remember how many young people we frequently have here, especially Christmas time,—and you know they always dance.”