But she could only think,
somehow, of bacon and eggs, and coffee, and muffins.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Heyl's place. Fanny stood before it, key in hand (she had
found it in the mail box, tied to a string), and she had a
curious and restful feeling, as if she had come home, after
long wanderings. She smiled, whimsically, and repeated her
lesson to herself:
"The fire's laid in the fireplace with fat pine knots that
will blaze up at the touch of a match. My books are there,
along the wall. The bedding's in the cedar chest, and the
lamps are filled. There's tinned stuff in the pantry. And
the mountains are there, girl, to make you clean and whole
again. . . ."
She stepped up to the little log-pillared porch and turned
the key in the lock. She opened the door wide, and walked
in. And then she shut her eyes for a moment. Because, if
it shouldn't be true----
But there was a fire laid with fat pine knots. She walked
straight over to it, and took her box of matches from her
bag, struck one, and held it to the wood.
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