nown what it was to be warm on both sides at
once, that I had scorched my face while my back was freezing, then
turned, like a chicken on a spit, to bake the other side. Without doubt
I had grown used to it, so used to it that it had never occurred to me
that in cold weather any one really could be warm on both sides at once;
also, perhaps, it had hardened me, still--

Elizabeth's ideas were not poetic; they did not express art for art's
sake; anybody could see that; but, after all, there would be
days--January days--when a fireplace alone, however beautiful as an
ornament, would not make enough impression on the family circle, and
scarcely any at all on the up-stairs. Coming up rather quietly somewhat
later, she found me sitting under the big maple, surreptitiously
studying a range and furnace catalogue borrowed of Westbury. We decided
on Acme Hummers and I gave the order to the postman next morning.

VI

_Our last night in the barn was not like the others_

We lived a full week in the wood-house and barn, a week that is chiefly
memorable to me now because of the kindness of our neighbors.

I wonder if in every New England neighborhood new-comers are treated as
we were. It was high garden season, and I think not a day passed, that
at least one basket of sweet corn, beans, lettuce, and such noble things
was not set at our doors.

From all about they came, and how sweet and fresh they were! There had
been no lack of showers that summer, and gardens were at their best.
Nothing is so good as sweet corn, freshly picked and put in the pot. We
had never really had enough of it before. Now we had to strain our
appetites to keep up with the supply. And lima beans, and buttered
beets, and cucumbers and crisp salads, and fresh cabbage slaw! Dear me!
Why must any one have to stay in town where all those things are scarce,
and costly, and days old, and wilted, when he can go to the country and
have them fresh and abundant from the garden--of his neighbor?

Some of the offerings were really artistic, prettily arranged, and
garnished with flowers. Old Nat of the whitewash came one evening with a
huge round basket, in the center of which was a big yellow pumpkin, the
first of his crop, and ranged about it ears of corn, big red tomatoes,
and heads of lettuce, the whole like some wonderful great flower. But
then Nat was always an artist at heart.

Our last night in the barn was not like the others. We had become very
comforta