Above is to be a large guest room for Sylvia and Horace, or Evan and me, so that there will be room in plenty when by and by we bring the boys to see our New York.

Mrs. Jenks-Smith, who has formed a sincere attachment to Lavinia Cortright, did all in her power to persuade her to be her neighbour up in town, offering a charming house at a bargain and many advantages.  Finally becoming piqued at the refusal, she said:—­

“Why will you be so stupid?  Don’t you know that this out-of-the-way street is in the social desert?”

“It may be in a desert, as you say,” said Lavinia, gently, “but we mean at least to make it an oasis for our friends who are weary of the whirling of the pool.”

* * * * *

We stood looking at the boys as they slept tonight.  Strange thoughts will crop up at times most unexpectedly.  Horns blowing on the highway proclaimed the late arrival of a coaching party at the Bluffs.  “Would you like to have money if you could, and go about the world when and where you please?” I asked Evan, but he, shaking his head, drew me towards him, answering my question with another—­

“Would you, or why do you ask?”

I never thought that Mrs. Jenks-Smith’s stricture would turn to a prayer upon my lips, but before I knew it I whispered, “God keep us comfortably poor.”

Then Ian, feeling our presence, raised himself in sleepy leisure, and nestling his cheek against my dress said, “Barbara, please give Ian a drink of water.”