"I can understand that," agreed Cathcart. "Of course, the spot where you began life together will always have its charm for you both--in fact the sentiment of the matter may blind you to the real inadequacies of the place for a man in your position." "My position isn't so stable that I want to build a marble palace on it yet," said Anthony, a humorous twinkle in his eye. He enjoyed watching another man manoeuvre for his favourable hearing of a scheme. It was an art in which he was himself accomplished; it was one of the points of his value to Henderson and Henderson. "Everybody knows that you're in a fair way to become head man with the Hendersons," said Cathcart, "and everybody also knows that you might as well have struck a gold-mine. It's superb, the way you have come into the confidence of those old conservatives." "That's all well enough; but I don't see that it entails upon me the duty of laying out all I've saved on a new house. I know what you fellows are--when you begin to draw plans your love of the ideal runs away with the other man's pocketbook." "Not at all," declared Cathcart. "Particularly when he's a friend and you understand just what he can afford to do." "Why don't you talk about enlarging the old house? That's much more likely to appeal to my desires." The two had reached the back of the house and were close by the kitchen windows. Cathcart reached up and took hold of a sill. With a strong hand he wrenched and pounded about the window, until he succeeded in showing that it was old and uncertain. "That's why," he said, dusting his hand with his handkerchief. "The house is old--fairly rotten in places. The minute you began to enlarge it in any ambitious way you'd find it would be cheaper to tear it down and begin again. But the site, Robeson--the site isn't desirable. The place is respectable enough, but it has no future. The good building is all going south, not north, of the city. You don't want to spend a lot of money here--you couldn't sell out except at a loss." "Your arguments are good, very good," admitted Anthony; "so good that I'd like to put you on your mettle to draw me a set of plans for just the sort of thing you think I ought to have--or Mrs. Robeson ought to have, for she's the one to be considered. Anything will do for me. I'll let you do this--on one condition." "Name it." "That you also do your level best to demonstrate to me what a clever man and an artist of your proportions could make out of this house, provided he really wanted to show the extent of his ability. Now, that's fair. If you really care to convince me you won't fool with this proposition, you'll make a study of the one problem as thoroughly as you do of the other, and let me decide the case on its merits. If I thought you weren't giving the old house a fair chance I should take up its cause out of pure affection." He smiled at Cathcart's discontented face with so brilliant a good humour that the architect cleared up.