Maybe she wanted lace curtains, or something.
He set the four chairs in a row against the wall, swept up the bits of bark and ashes beside the stove, made sure that the water bucket was standing full on its bench beside the door, sent another critical glance around the room, and tiptoed over to the dish cupboard and let down the flowered calico curtain that had been looped up over a nail for convenience.

The sun sent a bright, wide bar of yellow light across the room to rest on the shelf behind the stove where stood the salt can, the soda, the teapot, a box of matches and two pepper cans, one empty and the other full.

Brit always meant to throw out that empty pepper can and always neglected to do so.

Just now he remembered picking up the empty one and shaking it over the potatoes futilely and then changing it for the full one.

But he did not take it away; in the wilderness one learns to save useless things in the faint hope that some day they may become useful.