twisted paper to be ignited at the famous stove. He
found amusement for two days in twisting and rolling these "lights,"
cutting frills in the larger ends with a pair of scissors, and stacking
them afterward in a Chinese flower jar he had bought for the purpose and
stood on top of the bookcases. The lights were admirably made and looked
very pretty. When he had done he counted them. He had made two hundred
exactly. What a coincidence!

But the stove, the famous tiled stove with flamboyant ornaments, was the
chiefest joy of Vandover's new life. He was delighted with it; it was so
artistic, so curious, it kept the fire so well, it looked so cheerful
and inviting; a stove that was the life and soul of the whole room, a
stove to draw up to and talk to; no, never was there such a stove! There
was hardly a minute of the day he was not fussing with it, raking it
down, turning the damper off and on, opening and shutting the door,
filling it with coal, putting the blower on and then taking it off
again, sweeping away the ashes with a little brass-handled broom, or
studying the pictures upon the tiles: the "Punishment of Caliban and His
Associates," "Romeo and Juliet," the "Fall of Phaeton." He even
pretended to the chambermaid that he alone understood how to manage the
stove, forbidding her to touch it, assuring her that it had to be coaxed
and humoured. Often late in the evening as he was going to bed he would
find the fire in it drowsing; then he would hustle it sharply to arouse
it, punching it with the poker, talking to it, saying: "Wake up there,
you!" And then when the fire was snapping he would sit before it in his
bathrobe, absorbing its heat luxuriously and scratching himself, as was
his custom, for over an hour.

But very often in the evening he would have the boys, Ellis, Geary, and
young Haight, up to a little improvised supper. They would bring home
_tamales_ with them, and Vandover would try to make Welsh rabbits, which
did not always come out well and which they oftentimes drank instead of
ate. Ellis, always very silent, would mix and drink cocktails
continually. Vandover would pick his banjo, and together with young
Haight would listen to Geary.

"Ah, you bet," this one would say, "I'm going to make my pile in this
town. I can do it. Beale sent me to court the other morning to get the
judge's signature. He had a grouch on, and wanted to put me off. You
ought to have heard me jolly him. I talked right up to him!