"Oh yes, convenient enough, but I don't like them. I would hate to
live where everything let down like a table-lid, or else turned
with a crank. And when I think of those fire-escapes, and the
boarder's grandchild, it makes me feel very unpleasantly."

"But the grandchild don't follow as a matter of course," said I.

"No," she answered, "but I shall never like French flats."

And we discussed them no more.

For some weeks we examined into every style of economic and
respectable housekeeping, and many methods of living in what
Euphemia called "imitation comfort" were set aside as unworthy of
consideration.

"My dear," said Euphemia, one evening, "what we really ought to do
is to build. Then we would have exactly the house we want."

"Very true," I replied; "but to build a house, a man must have
money."

"Oh no!" said she, "or at least not much. For one thing, you might
join a building association. In some of those societies I know
that you only have to pay a dollar a week."

"But do you suppose the association builds houses for all its
members?" I asked.

"Of course I suppose so. Else why is it called a building