“That sentiment is a solid foundation to build upon,” said the architect.  “I wish it was more popular.  Build to suit yourselves, not your neighbors.”

“And now if you will walk into my kitchen, which is not up nor down a winding stair? but on the same level with the dining-room, you shall judge whether it can be made a stern reality or must always remain the ghostly wing of a castle in the air.  The approach from outside is through the little entry at the farther corner, where ’the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker,’ the grocer, the fish-man, the milk-man and the ice-man bring their offerings.  The other entrance is by way of the lobby adjoining the main staircase hall.  This lobby or ‘garden entrance’ is a sort of Mugby Junction, where we can take the cars for the cellar, for the second floor by the back stairs route, for the dining-room or for out of doors, and where we find refreshment in the way of a wash-basin and minor toilet conveniences.  Under the main staircase there is also a large closet opening into this same lobby.  My kitchen you see has windows at opposite sides, not only to admit plenty of light, for cleanliness is a child of light—­”

“That’s true,” said Jack.  “In a dark room it’s hard to tell a dried blueberry from a dried—­currant.”

“Not only for light, but that the summer breezes may sweep through it when the windows are open, and, as far as possible, keep a river of fresh air rollings between the cooking range and the dining-room.  It is long and narrow, that it may have ample wall space and yet keep the distance between the engine and machine shop, that is, the range with its appurtenances, and the packing-room—­I mean the butler’s pantry—­as short as possible.”

“I’m glad there’s going to be a ‘butler’s pantry,’ it sounds so stylish.  I notice that among people who have accommodations for a ‘butler’ in their house plans, about one in a hundred keeps the genuine article.  All the rest keep a waitress or a ‘second girl.’  Sometimes the cook, waitress, butler, chambermaid, valet and housekeeper are all combined in one tough and versatile handmaiden.”

[Illustration:  JILL’S KITCHEN IN BLACK AND WHITE.]

“Well, call it china closet, though it is really something more than that, or serving-room, or dining-room pantry—­whatever you please.  We shall keep two servants in the house, one of whom will wait on the table; consequently I do not want a door from this room-of-many-names to the kitchen.  It is much easier to maintain the dignity and order that belong to our precious pottery, our blue and crackled ware, our fair and frail cut glass, if they are not exposed to frequent attacks from the kitchen side.  There is, however, an ample sliding door or window in the partition, and a wide serving table before it, on which the cook will deposit the dinner as she takes it from the range.  A part of the top of this table is of slate, and may be kept hot by steam or hot water from the range.  With but one servant it would of course be necessary to make the route from the kitchen range to the dining-room table more direct.”