ettle, filled
it, and hung it over the crackling flame. The boy enjoyed it all
greatly. He stuffed the cases with straw, and dragged them down stairs,
he brought down the chair and table, and piled up boxes for a second
seat, he pinned up Anne's shawl for a curtain, and then volunteered to
go to the store for whatever was necessary, insisting, however, upon the
strict allowance of two spoons, two plates, and two cups only. It was
all like _Robinson Crusoe_ and _The Swiss Family Robinson_, and more
than two would infringe upon the severe paucity required by those
admirable narratives. When he returned with his burden, he affably
offered to remain and take supper with them; in truth, it was difficult
to leave such a fascinating scene as two straw beds on the floor, and a
kettle swinging over a hearth fire, like a gypsy camp--at least as Li
imagined it, for that essence of vagrant romanticism is absent from
American life, the so-called gypsies always turning out impostors, with
neither donkeys, tents, nor camp fires, and instead of the ancient and
mysterious language described by Borrow, using generally the well-known
and unpoetical dialect that belongs to modern and Americanized Erin. At
last, however, Li departed; Anne fastened the door. Old Nora was soon
asleep on the straw, but not her young mistress, in whose mind figures,
added together and set opposite each other, were inscribing themselves
like letters of fire on a black wall. She had not expected any such
outlay as would now be required, and the money she had brought with her
would not admit it. At last, troubled and despairing, she rose from her
hard couch, went to the window, and looked out. Overhead the stars were
serenely shining; her mind went back to the little window of her room in
the old Agency. These were the same stars; God was the same God; would
He not show her a way? Quieted, she returned to her straw, and soon fell
asleep.

In the morning they had a gypsy breakfast. The sun shone brightly, and
even in the empty rooms the young day looked hopeful. The mistress of
the house went in to the city on the morning train, and in spite of all
lacks, in spite of all her trouble and care, it was a beautiful girl who
entered the train at Lancaster station, and caused for a moment the
chronically tired business men to forget their damp-smelling morning
papers as they looked at her. For Anne was constantly growing more
beautiful; nothing had had power as yet to ar