It was not until Caleb had been occupied, some
time, in yoking a team of horses to a wagon by the
summary process of nailing the harness to the vital
parts of their bodies, that she drew near to his work-
ing-stool, and sitting down beside him, said:
'Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes,
my patient, willing eyes.'
'Here they are,' said Caleb. 'Always ready. They
are more yours than mine, Bertha, any hour in the
four-and-twenty. What shall your eyes do for you,
dear?'
'Look round the room, father.'
'All right,' said Caleb. 'No sooner said that done
Bertha.'
'Tell me about it.'
'It's much the same as usual,' said Caleb. 'Homely
but very snug. The gay colours on the walls; the
bright flowers on the plates and dishes; the shining
wood, where there are beams or panels; the general
cheerfulness and neatness of the building; make it
very pretty.'
Cheerful and neat it was wherever Bertha's hands
could busy themselves. But nowhere else, were cheer-
fulness and neatness possible, in the old crazy shed
which Caleb's fancy so transformed.
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