I wish't coal wasn't so high.

There's times I almost lose my nerve." A blue and yellow flame at last began back of the mica-doored stove which furnished heat for the room.

The girls, too tired and cold to take off their wraps, sat for a time, their hands against the slowly heating door.

Now and again they peered in to see how the fire was doing.
Mary Warren rose and laid aside her street garb.

When she turned back again she still had in her hands the long knitting needles, the ball of yellowish yarn, the partially knitted garment, which of late had been so common in America.
"Aw, Sis, cut it out!" grumbled Annie, and reached to take the knitting away from her friend.