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"
"Well," said the farmer, rather disconsolately, "I fear the old
place has been spoiled for you. I was saying to mother before you
came home--"
"There now, father, no matter about what you were saying. Let
Susie tell us why the room is bleak."
The girl laughed softly, got up, and taking a billet of wood from
the box, put it into the air-tight. "The stove has swallowed it
just as old Trip did his supper. Shame! you greedy dog," she
added, caressing a great Newfoundland that would not leave her a
moment. "Why can't you learn to eat your meals like a gentleman?"
Then to her father, "Suppose we could sit here and see the flames
curling all over and around that stick. Even a camp in the woods
is jolly when lighted up by a flickering blaze."
"Oh--h!" said the farmer; "you think an open fire would take away
the bleakness?"
"Certainly. The room would be changed instantly, and mother's face
would look young and rosy again. The blue-black of this sheet-iron
stove makes the room look blue-black."
"Open fires don't give near as much heat," said her father,
meditatively.


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