gether—and I 'm looking round for the best draughtsmen, which takes time; I shan't be in full running order for several months yet. I brought over a lot of things to fit the place up with—these that you see are just a few odds and ends thrown in temporarily. I expect to like it here; there's a great chance in this town of yours."
"I suppose there is," said Floyd humbly.
"I wonder it's never been taken advantage of. Why, with these splendid hills—and the three rivers meeting among them—oh, what a place to build a city!"
"But the mills had to be built first," Floyd reminded him.
"Yes, but think of the hilltops! Why, what have you done with your hilltops—ragged, big houses and dreary, unsightly little ones! Oh, there's a great chance here—if a fellow could only get at it. Honestly, Floyd, just since I've been here, I've had more ideas in my head than in all the last year in Paris. It's stimulating—and I want to be up and at it, instead of sitting here, waiting for clients."
"They'll come," Floyd assured him.
"Yes, I'm not worrying much about that. You know, I'm just drawing the plans for Mr. Dunbar's new house; he's bought the Keating place, and he's given me pretty nearly a free hand, to show what I can do, and never mind the expense. Well, that's a good beginning. And then I have this house of my own to keep me busy."
"Where's that to be?"
"At the upper end of the Keating place; Mr. Dunbar's presented us with the land. They're going to be, both of them, in Italian Renaissance. You know, I think that's the style that ought to be adopted in this place—it's the thing that is most effective on the hills. Some of the architects have seen it, but sandwiched in are a lot of Colonial houses and Queen Anne houses and big nondescript barns of houses. Well, it takes time for a place to settle down—or grow up—to a right standard."