Mrs. Wade's lips shut tight, as she grappled with an altogether
new kind of jealousy. To think that Martin should delight in
giving to an outsider a pleasure he had persistently denied his
own son. How often had she pleaded: "It's a shame to make Billy
sleep in the parlor! A boy ought to have one spot to himself
where he can keep his own little treasures." But always she had
been met with a plausible excuse or a direct refusal. "I suppose
I ought to be thankful someone can strike an unselfish chord in
him," she thought, wearily.

"You'll have to get some furniture," Martin continued placidly.
"Mahogany's the thing nowadays."

"It's fearfully expensive," she murmured.

"Oh, I don't know. Might as well get something good while we're
buying. And while you're at it, pick out some of those curtains
that have flowers and birds on 'em and a pretty rug or two. I'll
have Fletcher put down hard oak flooring; and I guess it won't
make much more of a mess if we go ahead and connect up the house
with the rest of the Delco system."

"It's about time," put in Bill, who had been listening
round-eyed, until now actually more than half believing his
father to be in cynical jest. "We're known all over the county as
the place that has electric lights in the barns and lamps in the
house."

"It hasn't been convenient to do it before," was the crisp