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"Cyclona, standing by the window, saw it all, the swiftly passing landscape, the trees, the cows, as one would look from an observation car on a train. "The house was at last deposited rather roughly on terra firma and the jar awoke Mrs. Jonathan. She sat up and rubbed her eyes open. Then she looked about her in some alarm.
She shall not live in da'kness. Nevah again. Nevah again shall she live in a hole in the ground." After a time: "Is it possible?" he mused, half to himself, half to Cyclona, "to build a house without a cellah?" "I don't know," said Cyclona, whose knowledge of houses was limited to her own whose roof was still upside down, and dugouts.
Cyclona had taken her seat in the rocking chair near the hearth. She had laid the crying child in every possible position, across her knee face down, sitting on one of her knees, her hand to his back with gentle pats, and over her shoulder. All to no avail. It seemed as if the child would never quit sobbing. The sense of her helplessness joined with pity for his distress saddened her to tears.
"He flew away with the rest of the flyin' peccaries." "And haven't you ever seen them since?" asked Charlie, "or him?" "Sometimes you can see them 'way up in the air," replied Seth, running his fingers through his hair, "but they ah so fah away and little, you can't tell them from birds." Cyclona nodded again.
But there were days of wind and rain and sleet and cold stormy weather when all animals of the desert, whether human or four-footed, were glad to seek their holes in the ground and stay there. These days Seth spent in building the beautiful house. He sat before the dim half window, drawing the plan, Cyclona beside him, watching him.
"All these were of costly stones, according to the measures of hewed stones," she heard him say in the dream, "sawed with saws within and without. Even from the foundation unto the coping, and so on the outside toward the great court." Cyclona sat up in her bed with a start and slept no more. So it was the beautiful house that she was to build, of course.
"And it was an hand-breadth thick," interrupted Cyclona, "and the brim thereof was wrought like the brim of a cup, with flowers, of lilies; it contained two thousand baths. If you could, would you build her a bath like that, Seth?" she questioned. "I would," replied Seth, "and as fo' the lights!" "There were windows in three rows," read Cyclona, "and light was against light in three ranks."
"She slept all the sounder, therefore, lulled by its whistling and moaning and sobbing, not waking even when Cyclona, this girl they had adopted, opened the door and shut it suddenly with herself on the inside, and a fortunate thing, too, that was for Cyclona, or the cyclone might have left her behind.
Cyclona was not only the most beautiful young woman in the Magic City, but she was the most beautifully gowned and exquisite, what with her well-filled purse with its attendant luxuries of maids, mantua-makers and milliners. She was new to look at, but old thoughts clung to her, old dreams, old fancies. Cyclona dreamed a dream one night.
"It's from Jonathan, Cyclona's father," she chuckled. "Of all the people in the world! It is post-marked Texas." "So that's where they blew to! It's to Cyclona, but everybody will be dying to know what it says. Listen: "'Dear Cyclona: "'I think you will be glad to hear that this cyclone was good to us, blowin' us 'way down here in Texas, where the weather is so fine.
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