usan must use it for sewing," she told Burt, dreamily. "With
that big skylight--it could be a studio, couldn't it?"

"It is," Burt informed her. "Aunt Susan is an artist--with her needle.
She gives, or gave, dressmaking lessons, in her idle moments. She gave
up dressmaking, when she bought this house and settled here, but now she
teaches the daughters of her old customers, they come out in automobiles
every Wednesday, in winter. Saturday afternoons she has some of the
young girls in the village, here,--without price--and without taste,
too, some of them! And Nan, I hate to mention it, but--Aunt Susan is a
pretty good cook, too!"

"Feed the brute!" quoted Nan, with a gay laugh. "Will the Admiral drink
condensed milk?"

Mrs. Brown came over with her blueberry pie as Burt was summoned to
luncheon. She surveyed the table, which Nan had laid in the kitchen, and
then the Admiral, who was making his toilette in a thorough manner that
suggested several courses, with outspoken approval.

"My, I wish Susan Winchester could pop in this minute. You found the
prepared flour, and all--baked 'em on the griddle! Wa'n't that cute! I
never did see an omelet like that except from Susan Winchester's own
hands, and she learned from a Frenchwoman she used to sew with. Some
folks can pick up every useful trick they see."

Turning to Burt, she continued:

"With all the new fangle-dangles of these days, women voting and all,
you're a lucky boy to have found an old-fashioned girl!"

"I know it," said Burt, brazenly, but he did not meet Anne's astonished
eyes. "My girl has learned the best of the new accomplishments, without
losing what was worth keeping of the old."

Anne's judgment told her it was a good luncheon--no better than she
served herself at home, though. She stared at her own slim, capable
fingers. Was she domestic, after all?

"We've been looking at apartments in the city," Burt went
on--"apartments in a hotel, you know.--Try the omelet, Mrs. Brown--Nan's
don't fall flat as soon as other omelets do.--But we haven't found what
really appeals to us."

"I should think not," declared Mrs. Brown, vigorously. "I always say a
person hasn't a spark of originality that will go and live in a coop
just like hundreds of others, all cut to the same pattern. Look at your
Aunt Susan, now. This house belonged to old Joe Potter, he built it
less'n ten years ago an Mis' Potter she had it the way she wanted it,
and that was like the house s