small rooms, not more than one of which is in constant use. Pretension
takes the place of comfort. Mrs. Grundy must have a 'drawing-room' or
die! It is a kind of holiest of holies, too beautiful for normal
occupation, full of gimcrack chairs that cannot be sat upon, and
decorative futilities which give it the aspect of a miscellaneous stall
at a 'rummage sale.' Such a room is very well as a _with_drawing-room,
its proper use; but as a room into which no one withdraws it is absurd.
As I expected to keep no company, and needed no room into which to
withdraw, I was able to get rid of this apartment. Moreover, in a very
small house, common sense demanded that every room should be really and
thoroughly used.

Fortunately the fireplaces of my two cottages were against the outer or
gable ends, and not against the partition wall, as is commonly the
case. I had only to remove this partition wall, supporting the ceiling
by a strong beam, and I had a room about twenty-four long by fifteen in
breadth. At the back of this room were two small kitchens, only one of
which was needed. By widening the doorway leading to one of them to
double its breadth, I gained another room about ten feet square. This
made my library, by which I mean not a room in which I ever sat, but a
room entirely devoted to the housing of my books. I had the walls
entirely lined with books, making and staining the bookshelves with my
own hands. Across the widened doorway from which the door had been
removed hung a warm curtain, so that it was to all intents and purposes
a part of my living-room. I took infinite and almost childish delight
in the arrangement of this living-room. I had brought not a single
article of domestic furniture with me from London. Such furniture as I
had--chairs, tables, couch, sideboard, and so forth--would have looked
out of place in the country, and moreover it was better economy to sell
them. I sold them very well in a London auction-room, getting almost