"I could use them to help furnish the house, and it wouldn't appear so strange to you." The Harvester liked that.
"All the washed things are in those boxes upstairs; also some fine skins I've saved on the chance of wanting them.

Her dishes are in the bottom of the china closet there; she was mighty proud of them.

The furniture and carpets were so old and abused I burned them.

I'll go bring a wrap." He took the candle and climbed the stairs, soon returning with a little white wool shawl and a big pink coverlet.
"Got this for her Christmas one time," he said.

"She'd never had a white one and she thought it was pretty." He folded it around the Girl's shoulders and picked up the coverlet.
"You're never going to take that to the woods!" she cried.
"Why not ?" She took it in her hands to find a corner.
"Just as I thought! It's a genuine Peter Hartman! It's one of the things that money can't buy, or, rather, one that takes a mint of money to own.
They are heirlooms.