DEAR MR. ARCHITECT: Jane has just read her letter to you aloud for
John's and my benefit. John listened to the end without moving a
muscle. When she wound up with the garden of Eden, he got up, took off
his hat (he will keep it on in the house), made a fearfully low bow
and said, "Perfectly magnificent, Jane! I begin to feel like old Adam,
already." Then he burst out laughing and took himself out of the room,
leaving the door wide open, of course, and kicking up the corner of
the door-mat. You see he's one of those men who think home isn't
home-like unless it's sort of free and easy. He'd be perfectly willing
to eat and sleep and live in the kitchen,--if I had the work to do;
and though he likes pretty things, and would feel dreadfully if I
didn't look about so, has a perfect horror of smart housekeepers, and
thinks women who care for nothing else the most disagreeable people in
the world.

The trouble with Jane's letter is that she doesn't go into
particulars enough, and that's why I want to add a postscript. I wish
I could describe the kitchen in the house where she has been living.
The people had so much confidence in her judgment, that they just
allowed her to fix things as she chose, and it's really quite a study.
It mightn't suit anybody else, but it shows what may be done.

She began by taking one of the pleasantest rooms in the house,
although 'twas in the basement, and had windows cut to bring them on
the south and east sides. Then she had an outside door at the south
with a wide piazza over it, which made the room actually just so much
larger. Across one side of the room is a wide stationary table,--I
suppose men would call it a work-bench,--with a fall-leaf, in front of
one of the windows, especially for an ironing-table. Of course it can