"I thought so," said Burton grimly. "I remember the Saturday-afternoon-off. I thought perhaps you had me in mind for your furniture-heaver. But since that is done it is evident you have something far more deadly in store for me. Let me know the worst, quickly." "Well, you know, dearie," said Eveley in most seductively sweet tones, "you know how the house is built. There is only one stairway, and it rises directly from the west room down-stairs. Unfortunately, my bride and groom wish to use that room for a bedroom. Now you can readily perceive that a young and unattached female could not in conscience--not even in my conscience--utilize a stairway emanating from the boudoir of a bridal party. And there you are!" "I am no carpenter," Burton shouted quickly, when Eveley's voice drifted away into an apologetic murmur. "Get that idea out of your head right away. I don't know a nail from a hammer." "No, Burtie, of course you don't," she said soothingly. "But this will be very simple. I thought of a rambling, rustic stairway outside the house, in the back yard. You know the sun parlor was an afterthought, only one story high with a flat roof. So the rustic stairway could go up to the roof of the sun parlor, and I could make that up into a sort of roof garden. Wouldn't it be picturesque and pretty?" "But there is no door from your room to the roof of the sun parlor," objected Burton. "No, but the window is very wide. I will just cover it with portières and things, and I am quite active so I can get in and out very nicely. And when I get around to it, and have the money, I may have a French window put in." "But, Eveley, I can't build a stairway. I don't know how to build anything. I couldn't build a box." "But you do not have to do this alone, Burtie. Just the foundation, that is all I expect of you. You will have lots of assistance. Not experienced help perhaps, but enthusiastic, and 'love goes in with every nail,'--that sort of thing. I have sent invitations to all of my friends of the masculine persuasion, and we have started a competition. Each admirer is to build two steps according to his own design and plan, and the one who builds most artistically is to receive, not my hand and heart, but a lovely dinner cooked on my grill in my private dining-room. I have the list here. I figured that twelve steps will be enough. Nolan Inglish, two. Lieutenant Ames, two. Captain Hardin, two. Jimmy Weaver, two. Dick Fairwether, two. Arnold Bender, two. Arnold is Kitty's beau, but she guaranteed two steps for him. Won't it be lovely?" "To-morrow being Saturday afternoon," said Burton bitterly. "I ordered the rustic lumber last night, and it was delivered to-day." "And you consider it my duty as the luckless husband of your long-suffering sister, to lay the foundation for the wabbly, rattly ramshackle stairs your pet assortment of moonstruck admirers will build for you?"