1913. The book begins: The two old men sat in the library, eyeing
the unresponsive blue envelope that lay on the end of the long
table nearest the fireplace, where a merry but unnoticed bed of
coals crackled fiercely in the vain effort to cry down the shrieks
of the bleak December wind that whistled about the corners of the
house. Someone had come into the room-they did not know who nor
when-to poke up the fire and to shuffle fresh coals into the grate.
No doubt it was the parlor maid. She was always doing something of
the sort. It seemed to be her duty. Or, it might have been the
housekeeper, in case the parlor maid was out for the evening.
Whoever it was, she certainly had poked up the fire, and in doing
so had been compelled to push two pairs of feet out of the way to
avoid trampling upon them. See other titles by this author
available from Kessinger Publishing.
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