te goldiness, there
came the sound of a sprightly whistle and light step, and the architect
appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Badgely had by this time become an intimate member of the farm
household. The two old people beamed upon him; Mr. Pawket waved him
excitedly toward the table, announcing:

"Well, sir, it's finished. Take it or leave it; I don't know as you
could find one any handsomer."

Mr. Badgely started theatrically. He was clad in white flannels and a
white silk shirt; a golden-brown tie matched the brown of a dreaming
fire in his eyes, and there were brown silk socks upon his shapely
calf-skinned feet. The Pawkets, even in their absorption, noted that, if
not really young, the architect suggested something very like youth. His
dapper figure now bent reverently over the kitchen table on whose
red-and-white-checkered cloth reposed the gold jar; he drew a long
breath.

"The--er--Everything!" he murmured. After a long and careful scrutiny of
the golden object, he turned to Mr. Pawket.

"Really--it--it defies description--it is so--er--genuine! I confess I
never have seen anything quite like it--anywhere. Mrs. Pawket, I do
congratulate you."

"There's a rage for 'em now," explained Mr. Pawket, proudly, "but 't was
she started the first one. She began the hull thing; we was foolish
enough to mention ourn to the hotel-keeper's daughter, and now, as fur
as I can gather, there's six Everythings started right here in Brook
Center."

Mr. Badgely showed deep emotion. "Really, six Everythings? You surprise
me. I had no idea the community boasted such--er--creative feeling."

The old farmer looked at the young man, then at his wife. "Tell him what
you goin' to do," he commanded. Mrs. Pawket, however, twisted nervously
at the end of the white mosquito-netting and said she felt too shy. Mr.
Pawket with manly decision relieved her of the burden of explanation.

"Seems she's had it in her mind to finish that there Everything in time
to have it on the center-table in the vanilla," he said; "and now she's
gone and got me so het up with interest that I got to take a hand, too.
Now, fer instance, the furniture--" The old man hitched himself nearer
to the architect, saying in sepulchral tones of parental anxiety:
"'Tain't fer me to interfere, but I seen the stuff. I been down to the
junction and see what they got. Well, say, ain't it pitiful, all that
old, ancient furniture?"

Mr. Badgely nodded his head with another sor