As I had not been forbidden, I ventured to go carefully after them.
"What a jolly big fireplace," said Dallas, when we entered a small living-room with a fire all laid.
"The warden is as neat as a woman," said Cassowary. "Poor fellow! his wife is dead. He's here all alone in winter, and he reads a lot. See the books in those cases, and his nice reading lamp on the table. He's as snug as a wood-louse, he says."
Young Dallas touched admiringly a rack with guns and fishing rods.
"Come through to the kitchen," said Cassowary.
"Will he mind?" asked Dallas, tiptoeing after her.
"Oh! you green city boy," she said. "In the backwoods we're neighbours. We know who lives next door to us. Let's see what he's got in his cupboard. High bush cranberry jam! That's delicious! Let's have some on bread, and wouldn't a cup of tea be nice? We're on holiday. Here are lemons for it. He doesn't keep a cow."
"Some tea would be great," cried Dallas. "I'll help you make a fire in this nice clean kitchen stove," and he seized a big stick of wood from the box.
"Go get the water, you duffer," she said, handing him a pail. "Paper goes first, then kindling, in making a fire. I'll do it—spring is first turn to the left."