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"
"Oh, hold on, Sue; I do like this wood-fire. If it wouldn't make
you vain, I'd tell you how--"
"Pretty, father. Say it out."
"Oh, you know it, do you? Well, how pretty you look in the
firelight. Even mother, there, looks ten years younger. Keep your
low seat, child, and let me look at you. So you're eighteen? My!
my! how the years roll around! It WILL be Bleak House for mother
and me, in spite of the wood-fire, when you leave us."
"It won't be Bleak House much longer," she replied with a
significant little nod.
The next morning at an early hour the farmer said, "All ready,
Sue. Our time is yours till night; so queen it over us." And black
Hiram grinned acquiescence, thinking he was to have an easy time.
"Queen it, did you say?" cried Sue, in great spirits. "Well, then,
I shall be queen of spades. Get 'em, and come with me. Bring a
pickaxe, too." She led the way to a point not far from the
dwelling, and resumed: "A hole here, father, a hole there, Hiram,
big enough for a small hemlock, and holes all along the northeast
side of the house.


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