WOOD FIRES 



a juniper bush up through it to the roof, and pre 

 cipitating an amazing mass of old birds nests and 

 egg-shells, to say nothing of soot. Then I helped 

 him build a storm door, surprising myself more 

 than I surprised him by my dexterity with a saw 

 and hammer. When the roughest of the work 

 was done, Griselle came over and added the fin 

 ishing touches. She put a new curtain on the 

 window, standing on the table to tack it up, and I 

 holding the table. When she had fastened the 

 chintz properly in plaits, .she took my hand and 

 jumped down like a springbok, and picked up the 

 large photograph of Charlie s mother that had 

 fallen on the table. &quot;We must tack that up,&quot; 

 she said, &quot; where you study and write.&quot; 



&quot; No,&quot; I protested ; &quot; I ll put it away in my 

 trunk. Photographs fade in the light.&quot; 



&quot; I should think,&quot; she said softly, as she pushed 

 a tack through it, &quot; that they would be more apt 

 to fade if you packed them out of sight.&quot; 



I was watching her, because she looked very 

 pretty in her employment. Did you ever try to 

 read or make out a picture, sitting in the cross- 

 lights of a lamp and the moon ? How the far 

 away beams confuse you ! 



She sent over a pair of old hand-irons that she 

 had pulled out of the garret, and what with rotten- 

 stone and ashes, the brass came out scintillant and 

 added a continuous sparkle to the long evenings 

 for months afterward. She even made a cushion 

 for the big Quaker rocker, and lugged over two 

 old conch shells and put them on the little mantel 



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