the owner of the proposed villa, felt that he must be very vigilant
in overseeing. Every day the old man appeared at Cedar Plains, boots
spattered, overalls greased and clayey, making his anxious comments to
the architect, who received them thoughtfully, with the air of putting
all suggestions into immediate execution.

So the building of the "vanilla" proceeded, but it proceeded under the
stigma of an outraged countryside. The "show-place" confidently
predicted seemed not to evolve; outside of insane expenditures for
heating and bathing and the sanitary care of laundry and food, there
were few evidences that the villa was to be magnificent. Development
after development not only puzzled the neighboring farmers, but incensed
them. Men driving by "Willum's vanilla" pointed it out, tongue in
cheek, with derisive whip; their women folks, veiled and taciturn,
leaned forward in curious wonder to condemn silently. Such complacent
agriculturists as owned "ottermobiles" came from miles away to view the
thing; they halted their machines by the roadside and went in parties up
through the tapering cedars to where stood the slowly rising square
white walls, which they stared at with patronizing guffaws. It was the
fashion for the youth of Brook Center to spend Sunday afternoons down in
Cedar Plains, where among the dark trees they found the rosy trail of
arbutus; where strawberries hung in the rank green grass, and where, of
autumn days, wandering over the sweet stubble, they confessed to each
other those innocent melancholies of beings that have never known
sorrow.

On the edge of the plains where the russet path met the highway was an
old well. Here the brooding boys and girls were accustomed to bring
their loves and quarrels; here they hoisted the bucket from its
glittering black depths, poured water on tight bunches of anemone, fern,
and Dutchman's breeches, took long, gasping country drinks, and played
all the pranks youth plays when relaxed beside its subtle, laughing
ally--water. As the Sunday sun went down the boys and girls discussed
the strange phenomenon of the new house whose enigmatic walls gleamed
through the fields of their once free rovings. They uttered dark
hearsay: "Some says them two is crazy; that's why they been chased out
er It'ly." The twins, playing stick-knife in the soft turf that edged
the road, flatly contradicted this:

"They are not crazy, neither; they 'm as common sense as you are."

"Well, ef