"Why, you could be a baseball player," said he.
"I used to play with Joe, when I was a girl," said Miss Mattie, smiling. "I always liked boy's play better than I did girl's. Joe taught me how to throw a ball, too. He said he wouldn't play with me unless I learned not to 'scoop it,' girl fashion. I suppose you will be wanting breakfast?" There was a hint of sarcasm in the doubt of the inquiry.
"That's what I do!" said Red. "You must just hustle down and get things to boiling, or I'll throw bricks through the windows. I've been up for the last two hours."
"Why! I don't believe it!" said Miss Mattie.
"No more do I, but it seems like it," replied Red. "Don't you want the fire started? Come down and open up the house."
When Miss Mattie appeared at the door, in he strode with an armful of wood, dropping it man-fashion, crash! on the floor.
"Skip out of the way!" said he. "I'll show you how to build a fire!"
The early morning had been the most desolate time to Miss Mattie. As the day warmed up the feeling of loneliness vanished, perhaps to return at evening, but not then with the same absoluteness as when she walked about the kitchen to the echo of her own footsteps in the morning.
Now the slamming and the banging which accompanied Red's energetic actions rang in her ears most cheerily. She even found a relish in the smothered oath that heralded the thrust of a splinter in his finger. It was very wicked, but it was also very much alive.
Red arose and dusted off his knees. "Now we're off!" he said as the fire began to roar. "What's next?"