“Plenty of it. There is as good bed-sand in this region as the world can furnish. Aerated sand—and loose; but they won’t buy it. They want something that will pack solid, and petrify.”
“How are the rooms?”
“Eight feet square; and a sheet of iced oil-cloth to step on in the morning when you get out of the sand-quarry.”
“As to lights?”
“Coal-oil lamp.”
“A good one?”
“No. It’s the kind that sheds a gloom.”
“I like a lamp that burns all night.”
“This one won’t. You must blow it out early.”
“That is bad. One might want it again in the night. Can’t find it in the dark.”