It seems to be mostly 'me' and 'mine,' and it's not the
real truth concerning this house. I don't believe there is a
healthy, normal man living who has not his dream. I have no
hesitation whatever in admitting that I have mine. This house
must be two things. It has got to be a concrete workshop for me,
and it has got to be an abstract abiding place for a dream. It's
rather difficult to build a dream house for a dream lady, so I
don't know what kind of a fist I am going to make of it."
Linda sat down on a boulder and contemplated her shoes for a
minute. Then she raised her ever-shifting, eager, young eyes to
Peter, and it seemed to him as he looked into them that there
were little gold lights flickering at the bottom of their
darkness.
"Why, that's just as easy," she said. "A home is merely a home.
It includes a front porch and a back porch and a fireplace and a
bathtub and an ice chest and a view and a garden around it; all
the rest is incidental. If you have more money, you have more
incidentals. If you don't have so much, you use your imagination
and think you have just as much on less."
"Now, I wonder," said Peter, "when I find my dream lady, if she
will have an elastic imagination."
"Haven't you found her yet?" asked Linda casually.
"No," said Peter, "I haven't found her, and unfortunately she
hasn't found me. I have had a strenuous time getting my start in
life. It's mostly a rush from one point of interest to another,
dropping at any wayside station for refreshment and the use of a
writing table.
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