stairway, and open to a green glass skylight called the "dome," three
stories above the ground floor. A ballroom occupied most of the third
story; and at one end of it was a carved walnut gallery for the
musicians. Citizens told strangers that the cost of all this black
walnut and wood-carving was sixty thousand dollars. "Sixty thousand
dollars for the wood-work alone! Yes, sir, and hardwood floors all
over the house! Turkish rugs and no carpets at all, except a Brussels
carpet in the front parlour--I hear they call it the 'reception-room.'
Hot and cold water upstairs and down, and stationary washstands in
every last bedroom in the place! Their sideboard's built right into
the house and goes all the way across one end of the dining room. It
isn't walnut, it's solid mahogany! Not veneering--solid mahogany!
Well, sir, I presume the President of the United States would be
tickled to swap the White House for the new Amberson Mansion, if the
Major'd give him the chance--but by the Almighty Dollar, you bet your
sweet life the Major wouldn't!"

The visitor to the town was certain to receive further enlightenment,
for there was one form of entertainment never omitted: he was always
patriotically taken for "a little drive around our city," even if his
host had to hire a hack, and the climax of the display was the
Amberson Mansion. "Look at that greenhouse they've put up there in
the side yard," the escort would continue. "And look at that brick
stable! Most folks would think that stable plenty big enough and good
enough to live in; it's got running water and four rooms upstairs for
two hired men and one of 'em's family to live in. They keep one hired
man loafin' in the house, and they got a married hired man out in the
stable, and his wife does the washing. They got box-stalls for four
horses, and they keep a coupay, and some new kinds of fancy rigs you
never saw the beat of! 'Carts' they call two of 'em--'way up in the