A few weeks under the care of good Mrs. Taylor, with Esther, the rosy-cheeked daughter, to lead Bertie to and from the school which she taught, did a great deal toward restoring vigor to the invalid.  Every morning she rode with her husband around the road by the lake, and from thence through the bars across the fields to the site of their new house.

They had named their place Woodlawn, on account of the beautiful old trees standing here and there on the greensward; and Mr. Curtis already had men at work making a solid road over which they could haul the lumber with their strong ox teams.

After they had decided where the house should stand, the first thing to be done was to make a plan of the building.  Mr. Curtis sent to the city for an architect to come to Oxford and bring his book of plans with him.

Perhaps you don’t know what an architect is, and I will explain the work that he does.  He is a man who draws upon paper a sketch of a house, or cottage, or church, or any kind of building.

First, he shows how the outside will look, and where the windows and doors will be placed.  If there is to be a portico, or a wing, or a bay-window, the picture shows you just how it will look and what the proportions will be.

Then the architect draws a picture or plan of the first, second, and third floors, if there are so many.  He puts down the size of the parlors, and the halls, and the dining-room, and the kitchen.  He places closets wherever he can find room for them, and plans for all the conveniences that you wish.

Then he goes to the chambers, and arranges for the bath-room, and the dressing-rooms; or, if it is to be a plain, cheap house, he plans every inch of room to the very best advantage.

When all this is done, the architect begins to draw what is called a framing plan; that is, a plan for the carpenters to work from.  This has a picture of every stick of timber in the building; so that a good builder can tell beforehand just how much the lumber will cost.

But this is not all the architect has to do.  It is his business to write down what are called specifications.

As this is a long word, I don’t suppose Jamie, nor Josie, nor Catherine can understand it any better than Herbert and Winnie did.  If you were going to have a doll-house, and your papa should allow you to tell the carpenter just how you would like it made, I suppose you would say: ­

“I want a window here and a door there; and I want a little mite of a bell that the dollies who come to the front door can ring.  And, oh, I must have a little sink for my doll to wash her dishes! and of course there must be a pump to bring water with.”

While you were talking, the carpenter would take his pencil and write this all down, and describe the materials to be used in the work, for fear he would forget some of the directions; and these would be specifications, or the basis of your bargain with him.

The architect for whom Mr. Curtis sent was Mr. Rand.  He reached the farm-house the second day after the letter was sent.  When he came Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were ready at the depot with the carriage to take him to Woodlawn.

“I am going to build a little nest for my birds,” Mr. Curtis said, laughing, “and can’t quite decide what shape will be best on this land.  I want the house to look pretty from the village, for I intend to have it set high where it can be seen through the trees.  But the back part must be pretty, too, for I shall have it look out upon a nice little grassy hill, with plants and shrubs in variety growing over it.”

“We shall see,” answered the architect.

Just as he spoke there was a turn in the road, and then they came in sight of the beautiful lake.

“Oh, how delightful!” the stranger exclaimed, “what an enchanting view.  It reminds me of a picture I’ve seen somewhere of an English landscape.”

“That’s what my wife says,” answered Mr. Curtis, glancing in her face with a smile.

The architect said no more; but his companions saw that his keen eye noticed everything.

Presently they alighted from the carriage, and Mr. Curtis, giving his wife his arm, began to explain where he intended his house to stand.

“I settled upon another place at first,” he said.  “There you will see the little stakes I drove into the ground, but my wife thought this better; and as I yield to her in matters of taste I changed to this spot.”

“This gives you a much better view,” the architect remarked quietly.

They walked here and there, two or three times.  Mr. Rand took a rule from his pocket and measured the ground.  Then he ran off by himself to the top of the little hill, and stood looking over the lake.  All this time he had scarcely answered Mr. Curtis’ questions.  He was thinking.  At last his face lighted up with a smile, and he exclaimed, ­

“I have it; just the thing.  How would you like a stone house?  You have plenty of material on your land.”

“A stone house is too damp,” answered Mr. Curtis, shaking his head.  “No, I prefer a well-made wooden house with back plaster and tarred paper to keep out the wind.  I can use all my stone in building walls around my farm.”

“How much land is there?”

“Sixty acres in this piece; and I have just purchased twenty more of wood; for I mean to keep warm.”