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Updated: June 28, 2025
Befitting our new position as business leaders, we built a 6 × 8 shed-roof kitchen onto the back of the shack and a clothes closet in one end of it; we even bought a little cookstove with an oven in it. One morning we saw a team and wagon angling across the Strip toward our place.
"You'd orter be rootin' kebbeges on a hog ranch wi' that voice," he said icily. "You're sure the worst singer in America." Then he glanced round for the children. They were nowhere to be seen. Sunny was at the cookstove boiling milk in a tin "billy." His face was greasy with perspiration, and, even to Bill's accustomed eyes, he looked dirtier than ever.
Muslin, that had once been white, was tacked to the beams overhead for a ceiling. The smoke from the cookstove had stained it to a deep brown color above the stove and to a lighter, meerschaum shade in the corners. The furniture was of the rudest plainest kind much of it evidently home-made. Uncle Henry was not unhandy with tools.
We "ditched" the big cookstove, made the back room into sleeping quarters, and turned our front room into a sort of clubhouse. White Mountain gave us a wonderful phonograph and plenty of records. If one is inclined to belittle canned music, it is a good plan to live for a while where the only melody one hears is a wailing coyote or the wind moaning among the pines. We kept getting new records.
"Then, why didn't you put another door in the kitchen end of the house?" Virginia questioned. "Two reasons, dearie. First, can you keep one door shut on days like this, even when there is no draught straight through the house?" he inquired. "Yes, when I put a chair against it, and the table against the chair, and the bed against the table, and the cookstove to back up the bed. I see.
If you hadn't done it the cookstove would have crushed my bones to powder." "It shows the temper of the kind of people we're fighting," muttered Darrin, compressing his lips tightly. "We'll soon have the whole city full trying to wipe us out!" "We may as well rush that building ahead," muttered the lieutenant.
I did not see him do it, but this I know: after all his furniture and his cookstove and pots and pans had been hauled off by the purchasers, when his house was stripped and bare, he sat down on the floor with his clasp-knife and ate all the melons that he had put away for winter. When Mr.
She talked much about them to Jean, who came into the kitchen to watch her get supper. The deep, dark, low-ceiled room was lighted by an oil lamp. The rocking chair in which Jean sat had a turkey-red cushion, and there was another turkey-red cushion in the rocking chair on the other side of the cookstove. They ate their meals on the table under the lamp.
There was nothing for it but to strip off all their clothes and dress them up in their nightgowns, for as yet he had no knowledge of their wardrobe, and send them out to get warm in the sun, while he dried their day-clothes at the cookstove. It was the climax. The man flung himself into a chair and buried his face in his hands. The mask had dropped from him.
I don't know what they were, he wouldn't answer when I asked him, but I saw him reading a good deal yesterday afternoon. And then he came into the kitchen where I was, took the lid off the cookstove and put a bundle of printed pages on the fire. I asked him what he was doing and he snapped at me that he was burning the words of Satan or something of that sort."
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