"I don't really want a house at all," he complained. "It's Miss
Proctor's idea. When we are married I intend to move into my
mother's town house, but Miss Proctor wants one for herself in
the country. I've agreed to that; but it must be small and it
must be cheap."

"Cheap" was a word that the clients of Post & Constant never
used; but Post knew the weaknesses of some of the truly rich, and
he knew also that no house ever built cost only what the
architect said it would cost.

"I know the very house you want!" he exclaimed. "One of our
young men owns it. He made it over from an old farmhouse. It's
very well arranged; we've used his ground-plan several times and
it works out splendidly. If he's not at home, I'11 show you over the
place myself. And if you like the house he's the man to build you one."

When they reached Cochran's home he was at Garden City playing
golf, but the servant knew Mr. Post, and to him and his client
threw open every room in the house.

"Now, this," exclaimed the architect enthusiastically, "is the
master's bedroom. In your case it would probably be your wife's
room and you would occupy the one adjoining, which Cochran now
uses as a guest-room. As you see, they are entirely cut off from-"

Mr. Griswold did not see. Up to that moment he had given every
appearance of being both bored and sulky. Now his attention was
entirely engaged--but not upon the admirable simplicity of Mr.
Cochran's ground-plan, as Mr. Post had hoped. Instead, the eyes