He showed no signs of "taking sick" however, and it seemed, in his frenzy for improvements, that the Evil One had selected him as a victim. The color of the new paint on the house did not please a single inhabitant of the village, and what was even more regrettable, it did not suit Matthew himself. It was far too green, and the bright yellow blinds suggested by the artist who was doing the work, were felt by all to be a public insult. The fence, too, had to be of the same colors, either separate or mixed, as there was plenty of paint for the purpose, and the scenery in the vicinity, on a bright day in late August, sank into insignificance as compared with the Milliken premises when finished. The misguided youth had screened in the little piazza with wire netting and put a high-power electric bulb in the ceiling. "He ain't intendin' to do no courtin' there, that's one thing certain," said Maria Snow. "I guess he's goin' to read the Portland papers out loud to Undine summer evenin's. He's planned light enough to see the small print in the telephone directory." He took out the beautiful Colonial front door with the fanlight over it, always greatly admired by summer visitors, and installed one of stained pine with a large square of glass in it adorned with inside curtains of Nottingham lace tied back with yellow ribbons. That was Maria Snow's idea. "It looks dressy," she said, "and if you're goin' to keep up with the procession, you've got to keep up, that's all; though I do think, Matthew, you might have left your grandfather's stone steps, if only for the sake of the old toad that's lived under 'em for fifty years to my certain knowledge." The stone steps were worn and chipped, however, and had settled down on one side, while the path to the front door was not the kind suitable for high-heeled slippered feet, so steps and walk were changed to cement, smooth, dry, and hideously inappropriate to the little farmhouse. "There's folks say you're goin' to be married, Matt, with all these improvements," said Bill one day. "Well, mebbe I be," Matt said laconically, "and mebbe mother and me are goin' to take boarders. The neighbors can take their choice." Then came a day when the workmen picked up their tools and left, and Maria Snow swept and scrubbed and cleaned up after them, and Matt went out in the barn and filled his pipe and tilted his chair back and took an hour to think for the first time in two months. For days he had tried the new kitchen pump every few hours, for Bill had declared it would never work right, since the well was ten feet lower than the sink, and it stood to reason that water wouldn't run uphill. This exercise was varied by the experimental turning on and off of sixteen electric lights in barn and house, including the parlor chandelier, which always had a hypnotic effect on him when he sat on the haircloth sofa and gazed fixedly at it for some moments.