because the walls slope backward as they
rise. The first story is also of stones, but such peculiar
stones as I never expected to see in a dwelling house,
precisely like those used in the country for fences.'"

"How exquisite!" exclaimed Bessie, clapping her hands in ecstacy.

"'Some of them seemed to be covered with the gray lichens that
are found growing on rocks,--'

"How delicious!"

"'--but I very much fear these will be destroyed by the action
of the lime in the mortar. The stones vary in color, and at a
little distance the effect is like a rich mosaic. The corners
of the house and the sides of the windows are made of
peculiarly dark, rough-looking bricks that harmonize well with
the general tone of the stone walls. The second story is of
wood, covered with shingles that have not been painted, but
simply oiled, and they have turned a dark reddish-brown. I
found on inquiry that they are California red wood. The roof is
of red tiles, and the chromatic effect of the entire building
is very charming and aristocratic.'"

"That would suit _us_ perfectly," said Jack, "but I think our
aristocratic aunt is more tiresome than the architect. Jim is asleep
and Bessie is on the verge of slumber." But just at that moment Bessie
gave a piercing scream and bounded from the sofa in uncontrollable
affright, while an army of reckless June bugs came dashing in through
the open, unscreened windows.

CHAPTER XII.

FROM MATHEMATICS TO ANCIENT BRIC-A-BRAC.

Taking advantage of the incursion of the June bugs, Jim withdrew in
good order, and Bessie shortly after retired with her tin candlestick.

"Do you seriously intend to allow that pair of incompatibles to go off
to-morrow looking for old furniture and antiquated household
implements?" asked Jill.

"Most certainly I do. It will he the greatest fun in the world. I only
wish we could go as invisible spectators; but, on the whole, we shall
best enjoy imagining what they will say or do if left to their own
devices, knowing, as we should, that our presence would prevent some of
their wildest absurdities. I'm awfully sorry they are not going to
build and furnish a house somewhere in this vicinity, according to
their combined notions."

"And I am extremely sorry you cannot take your thoughts from Bessie
long enough at least to hear the conclusion of Aunt Melville's letter."

"My dear, like John Gilpin, 'of