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Dust by E. (Emanuel) Haldeman-Julius;Marcet Haldeman-Julius
page 43 of 176 (24%)
really she, herself, could manage almost as well with the dirt
bottom. But when Martin began to discuss eliminating the whole
upper story of the house, Rose protested.

"You won't use it," he had returned reasonably. "I'll keep my
word, but when a body gets to figuring and sees all that can be
built with that same money, it seems mighty foolish to put it
into something that you don't really need."

As Martin looked at her questioningly, Rose felt suddenly unable
to muster an argument for the additional sleeping-rooms. It was
true that they were not actually necessary for their comfort; but
the house as it had been decided upon was so interwoven with
memories of her courtship and all that was lovable in Martin; it
had become so real to her, that it was as if some dear possession
were being torn to pieces before her eyes.

"I don't know why, Martin," she had answered, with a choky little
laugh, "but it seems as if I just can't bear to give it up."

"Why?"

"I--I--like it all so well the way you planned it."

"Just liking a thing isn't always good reason for having it.
It'll make lots more for you to take care of. What would you say
if I was to prove to you that it would build a fine
chicken-house, one for the herd boar, a concrete tank down in the
pasture that'd save the cows enough trips to the barn to make 'em
give a heap sight more milk, a cooling house for it and a good
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