purple set, but Rose loves lemonade better'n beer, so I guess I'll pack up
this one an' change it tomorrer. Mebbe when I get it out o' sight an' give the
lemonade to the pig I'll be easier in my mind."

In the opinion of the community at large Stephen's forehandedness in the
matter of preparations for his marriage was imprudence, and his desire for
neatness and beauty flagrant extravagance. The house itself was a foolish
idea, it was thought, but there were extenuating circumstances, for the maiden
aunt really needed a home, and Rufus was likely to marry before long and take
his wife to the River Farm. It was to be hoped in his case that he would avoid
the snares of beauty and choose a good stout girl who would bring the dairy
back to what it was in Mrs. Waterman's time.

All winter long Stephen labored on the inside of the cottage, mostly by
himself. He learned all trades in succession, Love being his only master. He
had many odd days to spare from his farm work, and if he had not found days he
would have taken nights. Scarcely a nail was driven without Rose's advice; and
when the plastering was hard and dry, the wallpapers were the result of weeks
of consultation.

Among the quiet joys of life there is probably no other so deep, so sweet, so
full of trembling hope and delight, as the building and making of a home,--a
home where two lives are to be merged in one and flow on together, a home full
of mysterious and delicious possibilities, hidden in a future which is always
rose-colored.

Rose's sweet little nature broadened under Stephen's influence; but she had
her moments of discontent and unrest, always followed quickly by remorse.

At the Thanksgiving sociable some one had observed her turquoise engagement