0This is the "living" room of Jerry Frost's house. It is even-ing. The room (and, by implication, the house) is small and stuffy-it's an awful bother to raise these old-fashioned win-dows; some of them stick, and besides it's extravagant to let in much cold air, here in the middle of March. I can't say much for the furniture, either. Some of it's instalment stuff, imitation leather with the grain painted on as an after-effect, and some of it's dingily, depressingly old. That bookcase held "Ben Hur" when it was a best-seller, and it's now trying to digest "A Li-brary of the World's Best Literature" and the "Wit and Humor of the United States in Six Volumes." That couch would be dangerous to sit upon without a map showing the location of all craters, hillocks, and thistle-patches. And three dead but shame-fully unburied clocks stare eyelessly before them from their perches around the walls.