Flat-dwellers

shall indorse my dictum that theirs is the only true happiness. If a home is

happy it cannot fit too close--let the dresser collapse and become a billiard

table; let the mantel turn to a rowing machine, the escritoire to a spare

bedchamber, the washstand to an upright piano; let the four walls come

together, if they will, so you and your Delia are between. But if home be the

other kind, let it be wide and long--enter you at the Golden Gate, hang your

hat on Hatteras, your cape on Cape Horn and go out by the Labrador.

Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister--you know his

fame. His fees are high; his lessons are light--his high-lights have brought

him renown. Delia was studying under Rosenstock--you know his repute as a

disturber of the piano keys.

They were mighty happy as long as their money lasted. So is

every-- but I will not be cynical. Their aims were very clear and defined. Joe

was to become capable very soon of turning out ...