“There, there, baby Lucy, lie still with your toys,
For papa is coming and does not like noise,�
she sings, in her clear treble.
“Hush, hush, there’s a deary, or mamma ’ll be weary;
There, there, but a minute, you’ll have to be in it,
Till mamma makes dinner, then baby’s the winner.�
Thus sings and rhymes the girl-mother, and the cloth is laid in a short space of time, and few moments later the dignified, manly figure of Nathan enters.
“How smoky it is getting outside,� Lissa says as she catches a glimpse of the atmosphere through the open doorway.
“Yes, the fires must be making considerable headway across the river. The smoke is much denser than it was this morning when I began plowing.�
“You think it is all across the river? No danger of its getting over here?� Lissa questions, a note of anxiety in her voice.