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Who would believe that these were the merry, capering, noisy creatures, full of fun and riot, clattering and screeching, and dancing about with ecstasy at Sam's information that there was a bonfire by the potato-house! "A bonfire!" said the London governess, thinking of illuminations; "what can that be for?" "Oh, it is not FOR anything," said Susan; "it is Purday burning weeds.
He passed through the gate and turned down the road; and upon him she kept a steady eye. She saw him leave the road and go into the woods. Not far away was a potato-house, built over a cellar. To this frail structure he set fire. The dry timbers soon fell into the pit, and he stood there as if to warm himself. Night was his time for real work and he would wait. The sun was almost down.
The enchantment had followed the zigzag lines of the fence, and on every rail was its embellishing touch. All the homely surroundings were transfigured. The potato-house was a vast white billow, the ash-hopper was a marble vase, and the fodder-stack was a great conical ermine cap, belonging to some mountain giant who had lost it in the wind last night.
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