[Illustration: STEAM PIPES BESIDE THE FIREPLACE.]

"It's my conviction," said he, "that if the heat actually evolved from
the fuel consumed by the average cook could be conserved on strictly
scientific principles, it would warm the house comfortably the year
round without any damage to the cooking, and with a saving of all the
bother of stoves, fireplaces and furnaces." And his conviction was well
founded, provided the house is not too large and the weather is not too
cold. "Shall we try it in the new house?"

"No, not unless somebody invents a new patent low-pressure,
automatic-cooking-range-warming-attachment before we are ready for it.
We shall have fireplaces in every room--real ones--and steam radiators
beside."

"What! in every room, those ugly, black, bronzy, oily, noisy, leaking,
sizzling, snapping steam radiators that are always in the way and keep
the air in the room so dry that everybody has catarrh, the doors won't
latch, and the furniture falls to pieces? You know how the old heirloom
mahogany chair collapsed under Madam Abigail at Mrs. Hunter's
party--went to pieces in a twinkling like the one-horse shay--and all
on account of the steam heat."

"Yes, I remember; it was a comical tragedy; and before we run any such
risks let us look over our advisory letters. Here's one from Uncle
Harry, who, as you know, is never without a hobby of some sort. Just at
present he is devoted to sanitary questions. To be well warmed,
ventilated and plumbed is the chief end of man. He begins by saying
that 'sun's heat is the only external warmth that is natural or
beneficial to human beings. When men have risen above the dark clouds