holding it against her lips so that
they were forced hard back upon her teeth. She drew, presently, a deep
breath, releasing her arm again and clasping her hands over her knees as
she bent lower, staring at the glowing heart of the fire. Her lips were
closely, seriously, set now; her eyes sorrowful. Alf and Emmy had
receded from her attention as if they had been fantastic shadows. Pa,
sitting holding his exhausted hubble-bubble, was as though he had no
existence at all. Jenny was lost in memory and the painful aspirations
of her own heart.

iii

How the moments passed during her reverie she did not know. For her it
seemed that time stood still while she recalled days that were
beautified by distance, and imagined days that should be still to come,
made to compensate for that long interval of dullness that pressed her
each morning into acquiescence. She bent nearer to the fire, smiling to
herself. The fire showing under the little door of the kitchener was a
bright red glowing ash, the redness that came into her imagination when
the words "fire" or "heat" were used--the red heart, burning and
consuming itself in its passionate immolation. She loved the fire. It
was to her the symbol of rapturous surrender, that feminine ideal that
lay still deeper than her pride, locked in the most secret chamber of
her nature.

And then, as the seconds ticked away, Jenny awoke from her dream and saw
that the clock upon the mantelpiece said half-past eight. Half-past
eight was what, in the Blanchard home, was called "time." When Pa was
recalcitrant Jenny occasionally shouted very loud, with what might have
appeared to some people an undesirable knowledge of customs, "Act of
Parliament, gentlemen, please"--which is a phrase sometimes used in
clearing a public-house. To-night there was no need for her to do that.
She had only to look at Pa, to take from his hand the almost empty pipe,
to knock out the ashes, and to say:

"Time, Pa!" Obediently Pa held out his right hand and clutched in the
other his sturdy walking-stick. Together they tottered into the bedroom,
stood a moment while Jenny lighted the peep of gas which was Pa's
guardian angel during the night, and then made their way to the bed. Pa
sat upon the bed, like a child. Jenny took off Pa's collar and tie, and
his coat and waistcoat; she took off his boots and his socks; she laid
beside him the extraordinary faded scarlet nightgown in which Pa slept
away the darkness. Then sh