"I am so sorry to give up our summer at Wheathedge," said she. "We did enjoy ourselves so much, John, and Harry grew and thrived so." "It can't be helped, Jennie," said I. "No"--said she slowly, and as if thinking to herself; "no--unless we took the Sinclair cottage for the summer." "I hadn't thought of that," said I. "What was the rent?" asked the diplomate. She knew as well as I did. "Eight hundred dollars a year," said I. "That is a clear saving of $1,700 a year," said Jennie. "That's a fact," said I. "If we did not like it we could come back to the city in the fall, and get a house here; if we did we could stay later and come in to board for three or four months. I shouldn't mind if we did not come at all." "No country in the winter for me, thank you," said I; "with the wind drawing through the open cracks in your country built house half freezing you, and when you try to keep warm your air-tight stove half suffocating you; with the roads outside blocked up with great drifts, and the trains delayed just on the days when I have a critical case in court." "Very well," said Jennie. She is too much of a diplomate to argue. "When the snow comes we can easily move back again, as easily as find a new house now. To tell the truth, John, I have no heart for house-hunting now." "Well," said I. "I will see Sinclair to-morrow. And if his house is in the market, Jennie, we we will move there as soon as the spring fairly opens." It was in the market. He was anxious to be rid of it. I hired it for the year, together with the furniture, at $800,--and he agreed that if I bought it in the Fall the half year rent should go on the purchase money. I did not pay him any rent. I did not move into the city when the snow came. The diplomate had her own way as she always does. We live in the country; and I--I am very glad of it. I can harness Katie on a pinch. I am not afraid of the cow. I am not skilful with the hoe, but I am as proud of my flower garden as any of my neighbors. And as to the relative advantages of city and country, I am quite of the opinion of Harry. "Harry," said his grandfather the other day, "don't you want to go back to the city and live?" "No!" said Harry, with the utmost expression of scorn on his face. "Why not, Harry?" "It smells so." CHAPTER III. We join the Church. "I have bought the house, Jennie," said I. "Thank you," said Jennie. She said it softly, but her eyes said it more plainly than her voice. I had hesitated a little before I finally closed the purchase. But Jennie's look and her soft "Thank you" made me sure I had been right. Since the baby has come we have converted the chamber over the library into an upstairs sitting-room. I found her there before the open fire, on my return from New York. The baby was sleeping in her arms; and she was gently rocking him, pressed close to her bosom. "I wish you would have a nurse for the baby, Jennie," said I. "I don't like to see you tied to her so."