warm blankets! How fine to be there so warm in bed while his cheeks grew
red in the cold air and burned deliciously. How could he ever sleep? He
was too happy!

He looked at the fire. And then he looked harder. It was not a fire at
all, but a young girl, all bright and golden, sitting with her head
drowsily bent forward on her knees and her arms wrapped close about her
legs. But as he watched she slowly lifted her bright head, and looked
quietly about the room. Then she gradually and beautilully rose and
stepped out of the fireplace onto the floor. Slowly she moved across to
the mother's couch and stood still as though looking down at her. Slowly
she bent and drew the bed-clothes higher about her shoulders, and kissed
the flower-petal hair curled back on the pillow.

She moved then to Ivra's couch, still slowly and very beautifully, and
Eric could see her smile at the little one huddled there, half on her
face, one arm thrown up over her head. Gently the fire-girl rolled her
into a relaxed position on her side, tucked in the flung arm, and kissed
the closed eyelids.

Then she stood a minute, looking away, Eric did not know where. But his
heart began to ache with wonder and longing. Would she come to him
too--or was he only a stranger?

He lay still, watching her from his dark corner. At last she stopped
looking away, and came across the floor to him. She brought all the
brightness of the room with her, and her feet made no sound on the
boards. When she stood above him he shut his eyes, though he wanted very
much to look up into her face. She bent down and her hands smoothed his
covers, warmed his pillow and lay still for a minute like sunlight on