The house stood
in the middle of an unfinished garden, which promised ultimately to be as
heterogeneous as itself, but which at present was merely an expanse of
sorely wounded earth.

The time was early summer, and therefore the summer dining-room of the
Spatts was in use. This dining-room consisted of one white, windowed wall,
a tiled floor, and a roof of wood. The windows gave into the winter
dining-room, which was a white apartment, sparsely curtained and cushioned
with chintz, and containing very few pieces of furniture or pictures. The
Spatts considered, rightly, that furniture and pictures were unhygienic and
the secret lairs of noxious germs. Had the Spatts flourished twenty-five
years earlier their dining-room would have been covered with brown paper
upon which would have hung permanent photographs of European masterpieces
of graphic art, and there would have been a multiplicity of draperies and
specimens of battered antique furniture, with a warming-pan or so suspended
here and there in place of sporting trophies. But the Spatts had not begun
to flourish twenty-five years ago. They flourished very few years ago and
they still flourish.

As the summer dining-room had only one wall, it follows that it was open to
the powers of the air. This result had been foreseen by the Spatts--had
indeed been expressly arranged, for they believed strongly in the powers of
the air, as being beneficent powers. It is true that they generally had
sniffling colds, but their argument was that these maladies had no
connection whatever with the powers of the air, which, according to their
theory, saved them from much worse.

They and their guests were now seated at dinner. Twilight was almost lost
in night. The table was illuminated by four candles at the corners, and
flames of these candles flickered in the healthful evening breeze, dropping
pink wax on the candlesticks. They were surrounded by the mortal remains of
tiny moths, but other tiny moths would not heed the warning and continually
shot themselves into the flames. On the outskirts of the table moved with
silent stealth the forms of two middle-aged and ugly servants.

Mrs. Spatt was very tall and very thin, and the simplicity of her pale
green dress--sole reminder of the brown-paper past--was calculated to draw
attention to these attributes. She had an important reddish nose, and a
mysterious look of secret confidence, which never left her even in the most
trying crises.