et them impose upon me if they want to," I declared, stoutly. "As
long as I have respectful service, I will let those I love make a
door-mat of me!"

"A slightly volcanic door-mat, I should say," observed the Angel. "You
would allow yourself to be stamped upon just about as humbly as a
charge of dynamite, and the remonstrance in both cases would be
similar."

I could not help remembering this conversation after we had moved in
and we had been settled by the efforts of the family of the cross-eyed
janitor.

I never enjoyed anything in my life as I enjoyed moving into our first
home. It was on the top floor, overlooking the park from the front
windows, while the back gave upon a stretch of neat little flower
gardens with the Hudson shining like a narrow silver ribbon between us
and the undulating Jersey shore.

Every room was light. Every room opened on the street, and the
sunlight came pouring in quite as if it did not know that in most
apartments the sun is an unexpected luxury. There were parquet floors
throughout, and the bathroom was white marble, all except a narrow
frieze of cool pale green. The woodwork was daintily carved, the
dining-room was panelled in oak with two handsome china-closets built
in. We had eleven closets with an extra storeroom for trunks in the
basement, and enough cabinets in the kitchen and butler's pantry to
stock a hotel, and as a crowning glory the front door did not open
opposite the bathroom or kitchen as is the case in most apartments, but
was near the front like the home of a Christian, and the dining-room
gave into the front room with a largeness of vista which made us feel
like millionaires.

Does this read like a fairy-tale?

As we surveyed our domain, I felt such a flood of gratitude and pride
of home sweep over my soul that I said to Aubrey:

"I actually feel like praying."

The Angel smiled an inscrutable smile, the exact meaning of which I did
not catch, but it was not one of derision. Rather I should say that it
had in it a waiting quality, as of a knowing one who intended to give
thanks after he had tested a meal, instead of a reckless wight who in
faith called down a blessing on a napkin and salt-cellars. But my
gratitude was largely "a lively appreciation of favours to come."

I have no tale of woe to relate of things which did not come in time.
Our purchases promised for a certain day arrived as scheduled, were
uncrated on the sidewalk, with Aubrey and m