"They take an awful lot of wood and wood is getting scarce in these parts." "Open fires don't give near as much heat," said her father, meditatively. The blue-black of this sheet-iron stove makes the room look blue-black." The room would be changed instantly, and mother's face would look young and rosy again. "Oh-h!" said the farmer "you think an open fire would take away the bleakness?" Even a camp in the woods is jolly when lighted up by a flickering blaze." "Why can't you learn to eat your meals like a gentleman?" Then to her father, "Suppose we could sit here and see the flames curling all over and around that stick. Shame! you greedy dog," she added, caressing a great Newfoundland that would not leave her a moment. "The stove has swallowed it just as old Trip did his supper. The girl laughed softly, got up, and taking a billet of wood from the box, put it into the air-tight. Let Susie tell us why the room is bleak." "There now, father, no matter about what you were saying. I was saying to mother before you came home-" "Well," said the farmer, rather disconsolately, "I fear the old place has been spoiled for you. Your face and mother's are not bleak, but the room is." "No, father, I'll own nothing of the kind. "Well, Sue," he remarked, "you'll own that this room in the house doesn't look very bleak?"
The farmer rubbed his hands over the general aspect of comfort, and especially over the regained presence of his child's bright face.
Banning got out her knitting, as usual, and prepared for city gossip. "I'll tell you the day before, and not till then."Īfter supper they drew around the stove. I'll trust you, however, not to break me. My present will make you open your eyes." "Oh, father," cried his daughter when, after doing his evening work, he entered with the shadow of his thoughts still upon his face-"oh, father, mother says I can choose my birthday present!" Well, well, some day Susie will go to the city to stay, and then it will be Bleak House sure enough." "Home has become 'Bleak House.' I suppose it did look bleak to her eyes, especially at this season. "I guess it will be the old story," he muttered. The farmer lifted the trunk to the horse-block and drove to the barn. A moment later Susie was in her mother's arms. His countenance fell, but he had no time for comment. I never so realized before how bare and desolate it looks, standing there right in the teeth of the north wind." "Father," resumed the girl, "we ought to call our place the Bleak House. He looked at his home, and in the late gray afternoon, saw it in a measure with her eyes-the long brown, bare slopes, a few gaunt old trees about the house, and the top boughs of the apple-orchard behind a sheltering hill in the rear of the dwelling. "It doesn't look so very bleak, does it, after all the fine city houses you've seen?" "There's the old place, Susie, waiting for you," he said. Well, thank the Lord! she doesn't seem sorry to go up the hill once more." She's paler, and has a certain air or style that don't seem just natural to the hill. "Yes," he thought, "she has grown a little citified. Farmer Banning kept no old nags for his driving, but strong, well-fed, spirited horses that sometimes drew a light vehicle almost by the reins.
He watched her furtively as they rode at a smart trot up the hill. When Susie appeared, she gave him a kiss before every one, and a glad greeting which might have satisfied the most exacting of lovers. He had come long before the train's schedule time, but was rewarded at last. On the afternoon of the 5th of April he went down the long bill to the station, and was almost like a lover in his eagerness to see his child. Sure enough, the 10th of April will be her birthday. "Is our little girl as old as that? Why, only the other day I was carrying her on my shoulder to the barn and tossing her into the haymow. "I will," said the farmer, his rugged, weather-beaten face softening with memories. You must give her something nice on her birthday." Well, she's coming home, as I said, and we must make home seem home to her. I've seen that you've missed her more than I have." When she is away, it's too big for me, and a suspicion lonely for us both. But I've been thinking that the old farmhouse may look small and appear lonely after her gay winter. "Now, see here, father, you beat all the men I ever heard of in scolding about farmers borrowing, and here you are borrowing trouble." The idea! But I'd be jealous if our little girl was sorter weaned away from us by this visit in town." "It seems to me that I miss her more and more." She had drawn her low chair close to the air-tight stove, for a late March snowstorm was raging without. "She is coming home next week," said his cheery wife. "Mother," remarked Farmer Banning, discontentedly, "Susie is making a long visit."
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