"Thank you very much," she returned
coldly, "but I can think of nothing in the world that would amuse me at
present. I simply wish not to freeze, and to save my life I can't get
one of our tiresome maids to answer my bell."
Betty's grand manner had returned, but in spite of her haughtiness the
newcomer persisted. "Do let me make the fire for you. I am only a wood-
gatherer at present, but pretty soon I shall be a real fire-maker, for I
have already been working for two months."
"A wood-gatherer and fire-maker; what extraordinary things a girl was
forced to become at an orphan asylum!" Betty's sympathies were
immediately aroused and her cheeks burned with resentment at the sudden
vision of this girl at her side trudging through the woods, her back
bent under heavy burdens. No wonder her shoulders stooped and her hands
were coarse. Betty slipped her arm through the stranger's.
"No, I won't trouble you to make my fire, but do come into my room and
let us just talk. None of my friends have been in to see me this
afternoon, not even the faithless Polly! They are too busy getting
ready for the end of school to think about poor, ill me." And Betty
laughed gayly at the untruthfulness of this picture of herself.
Once inside the blue room, without asking permission, Esther knelt
straightway down before the brass andirons and with deft fingers placed
a roll of twisted paper under a lattice-like pile of kindling, arranging
three small pine logs in a triangle above it.
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