I might be able to make some
suggestion that would help you."
"Now that is positively sweet of you," said Linda. "I never
thought of such a thing as either comfort or convenience. I
thought I had to take that room as it stands and do the best I
could with it, but since you mention it, it's barely possible
that more air might be agreeable and also more light, and if
there could be a small fireplace built in front of the chimney
where it goes up from the library fireplace, it certainly would
be a comfort, and it would add something to the room that nothing
else could.
"No workroom really has a soul if you can't smell smoke and see
red when you go to it at night."
"You little outdoor heathen," laughed Peter Morrison. "One would
think you were an Indian."
"I am a fairly good Indian," said Linda. "I have been scouting
around with my father a good many years. How about it, Peter?
Does the road go crooked?"
"Yes," said Peter, "the road goes crooked."
"Does the bed of the spring curve and sweep across the lawn and
drop off to the original stream below the tree-tobacco clump
there?"
"If you say so, it does," said Peter.
"Including the bridge?" inquired Linda.
"Including the bridge," said Peter. "I'll have to burn some
midnight oil, but I can visualize the bridge."
"And is this house where you 'set up your rest,' as you so
beautifully said the other night at dinner, going to lay its
corner stone and grow to its roof a selfish house, or is it going
to be generous enough for a gracious lady and a flight of little
footsteps?"
Peter Morrison took off his hat.
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