"Don't take my door; I live here."
But the man certainly did not hear Maggie; at all events he did not once turn back, but went away quite out of sight.
"But what could he want with my door?" said Maggie, in a high state of amazement. "Houses all have doors; so he can't want it for his house." She stood a long time, wondering and perplexed; and I must acknowledge, if I had been there, I should have wondered too. It was quite a long time before Maggie could persuade herself to go to bed again, and sleep till morning, which she finally did, feeling very thankful the man didn't take the bed.
In the morning a new joy was in store for her; she found that the sun now, when it rose, could look directly in upon her, and his warm rays would give warmth to her little room. As she looked up to the mantel-shelf, on which her bits of broken china were glowing from the sunshine, she jumped out of bed in an ecstasy of delight.
"O, dear, dear!" she cried, "what if that man had taken away those?—how I should have cried! But now he has, by taking the door, given the sun a chance to make them look more beautiful!"
Now she began to love the sun better than ever, for he had become one of the things which beautified her little home; and she always woke early,
so as to meet his first look, when he came into the room.
Still it must be confessed that the absence of her door did at times make her poor home more desolate; when, for instance, the winds went mad, and the rain came down in torrents from the clouds, O, such a frolicking as there was down her large chimney, and out through the doorway! Then round and round the house they would run, chasing each other,—now bursting into a boisterous mirth, now howling in low, dull tones, until in again at the door they swept, and up through the chimney.
In Maggie's mind, the chimney and open doorway belonged especially to the winds. She always thought of them in connection, and, when they began their frolicking, she would seat herself in one corner, and listen. Sometimes it seemed as though the winds rushed at one another,—one coming down the chimney, and the other in at the door; then, when they met, there was a kind of explosion, a thick, quick quarrel, and then they would draw off in merry laughter; then would Maggie clap her hands with glee, thinking it fine