I remember my room faced west, and the sun was getting
low, and the sky was a pale yellow and purple, just as you see it
sometimes in the winter when there is going to be a cold snap. I
rather think that was the night the frost came the first time. I
know Mrs. Dennison covered up some flowers she had in the front
yard, anyhow. I remember looking out and seeing an old green plaid
shawl of hers over the verbena bed. There was a fire in my little
wood-stove. Mrs. Bird made it, I know. She was a real motherly
sort of woman; she always seemed to be the happiest when she was
doing something to make other folks happy and comfortable. Mrs.
Dennison told me she had always been so. She said she had coddled
her husband within an inch of his life. 'It's lucky Abby never had
any children,' she said, 'for she would have spoilt them.'
"Well, that night I sat down beside my nice little fire and ate an
apple. There was a plate of nice apples on my table. Mrs. Bird
put them there. I was always very fond of apples. Well, I sat
down and ate an apple, and was having a beautiful time, and
thinking how lucky I was to have got board in such a place with
such nice folks, when I heard a queer little sound at my door.
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