I also resolved to have no more flower beds in front of the house, star shaped or diamond--they must all be sodded over.
That opinion of my earnest efforts to effect a renaissance at Gooseville--to show how a happy farm home should look to the passer-by--in short, my struggle to "live up to" the peacocks revealed, as does a lightning flash on a dark night, much that I had not perceived.

I had made as great a mistake as the farmer who abjures flowers and despises "fixin' up." The pendulum of emotion swung as far back, and I almost disliked the innocent cause of my decorative folly.

I began to look over my accounts, to study my check books, to do some big sums in addition, and it made me even more depressed.

Result of these mental exercises as follows: Rent, $40 per year; incidental expenses to date, $5,713.85.

Was there any good in this silly investment of mine?
Well, if it came to the very worst, I could kill the couple and have a rare dish.