"It's not so very unlike a great, first-class summer hotel, with singularly beautiful surroundings." "No, it's not," she agreed. "We had our best summer resorts in mind when we began to plan these places. People used to pay heavily in summer to enjoy a place where everything was done to make life smooth and pleasant. It occurred to us at last that we might live that way." "Who wants to live in a summer hotel all the time? Excuse _me_! "O, they don't. The people here nearly all live in 'homes'--the homiest kind--each on its own ground, as you see. Only some unattached ones, and people who really like it, live in the hotel--with transients, of course. Let's call here; I know this family." She introduced me to Mrs. Masson, a sweet, motherly little woman, rocking softly on her vine-shadowed piazza, a child in her arms. She was eager to tell me about things--most people were, I found. "I'm a reactionary, Mr. Robertson. I prefer to work at home, and I prefer to keep my children with me, all I can." "Isn't that allowed nowadays?" I inquired. "O, yes; if one qualifies. I did. I took the child-culture course, but I do not want to be a regular teacher. My work is done right here, and I can have them as well as not, but they won't stay much." Even as she spoke the little thing in her arms whispered eagerly to her mother, slipped to the floor, ran out of the gate, her little pink legs fairly twinkling, and joined an older child who was passing. "They like to be with the others, you see. This is my baby; I manage to hold on to her for part of the day, but she's always running off to The Garden when she can." "The Garden?" "Yes; it's a regular Child Garden, where they are cultivated and grow! And they do so love to grow!" She showed us her pretty little house and her lovely work--embroidery. "I'm so fortunate," she said, "loving home as I do, to have work that's just as well done here." I learned that there were some thirty families living in the grounds, not counting the hotel people. Quite a number found their work in the necessary activities of the place itself. "We have a long string of places, you see--from the general manager to the gardeners and dairymen. It is really quite a piece of work, to care for some two hundred and fifty people," Mrs. Masson explained with some pride. "Instead of a horde of servants and small tradesmen to make a living off these thirty families, we have a small corps of highly trained officers," added Nellie. "And do you co-operate in housekeeping?" I inquired, meaning no harm, though my sister was quite severe with me for this slip. "No, _indeed_," protested Mrs. Masson. "I do despise being mixed up with other families. I've been here nearly a year, and I hardly know anyone." And she rocked back and forth, complacently. "But I thought that the meals were co-operative."