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She glanced contemptuously at the amorphous piles of building material just beyond us.

“You can have the second spare bed-room upstairs,” put in Cousin Chad. “It’s more to my interest to put you in the front one; but livin’ comes high any way you take it, and I want to consider you. I reckon John ain’t able to spend much, with all this building on hand. The back room’s small, but you three can make out in it. If you want the other, of course it will cost more. You can come over this evening after John gets home, and he and I can settle the terms after supper.”

I kept my face quite straight, and made a handsome contribution to current fiction.

“It’s so kind of you. John will appreciate it as much as I. But we really enjoy camping, and would not give it up even for those lovely rooms of yours, Cousin Chad. Thank you so much.”

Cousin Jane’s rubicund complexion assumed a purplish hue.

“Do you intend to kill that delicate child of Henry Bird’s, making him sleep out in the weather all summer?” she demanded.