ggestions as to colour and style I'll be glad to. Though I shall all the
while be trying to live up to this photograph, and that will be a little
hard on the five-dollar-dining-table scale."

"You've only to look out that everything is in good taste," said Anthony
quietly, "and that you can't help doing. My wife will thank you, and the
new home will be sweet to her because of you. It surely will to me."

II.--MEASUREMENTS

It was on the first day of Robeson's two-weeks' July vacation that he came
to take Juliet Marcy and her aunt, Mrs. Dingley, who had long stood to her
in the place of the mother she had early lost, to see the home he had
bought in a remote suburb of a great city. It was a three-hours' journey
from the Marcy country place, but he had insisted that Juliet could not
furnish the house intelligently until she had studied it in detail.

So at eleven o'clock of a hot July morning Miss Marcy found herself
surveying from the roadway a small, old-fashioned white house, with green
blinds shading its odd, small-paned windows; a very "box of a house," as
Anthony had said, set well back from the quiet street and surrounded by
untrimmed trees and overgrown shrubbery. The whole place had a neglected
appearance. Even the luxuriant climbing-rose, which did its best to hide
the worn white paint of the house-front, served to intensify the look of
decay.

"Charming, isn't it?" asked Robeson with the air of the delighted
proprietor. "Of course everything looks gone to seed, but paint and a
lawn-mower and a few other things will make another place of it. It's good
old colonial, that's sure, and only needs a bit of fixing up to be quite
correct, architecturally, small as it is."

He led the way up the weedy path, Mrs. Dingley and Juliet exchanging
amused glances behind his back. He opened the doors with a flourish and
waved the ladies in. They entered with close-held skirts and noses
involuntarily sniffing at the musty air. Anthony ran around opening
windows and explaining the "points" of the house. When they had been over
it Mrs. Dingley, warm and weary, subsided upon the door-step, while Juliet
and Anthony fell to discussing the possibilities of the place.

"You see," said Anthony, mopping his heated brow, "it isn't like having
big, high rooms to decorate. These little rooms,"--he put up his hand and
succeeded, from his fine height, in touching the ceiling of the lower
front room in which they stood--"won't st