Band books

I felt a little nervous when I thought of going over the
figures with Polly,--she was such a judicious spender of money. But I
knew her criticism would not be severe, for she was hand-in-glove with
me in the project. I tried to find fault with myself for wastefulness,
but some excellent excuse would always crop up. "Your water tower is
unnecessary." "Yes, but it adds to the landscape, and it has its use."
"You have put up too much fencing." "True, but I wanted to feel secure,
and the old fences were such nests of weeds and rubbish." "You have
spent too much money on the farm-house." "I think not, for the laborer
is worthy of his hire, and also of all reasonable creature comforts."
And thus it went on. I would not acknowledge myself in the wrong; nor,
arguing how I might, could I find aught but good in my labors. I
devoutly hoped to be able to put the matter in the same light when I
stood at the bar in Polly's judgment hall.
The day was clear, cool, and stimulating. A fair fall of snow lay on the
ground, clean and wholesome, as country snow always is.


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