"Then we'll let this fire out," said Marie, after a pause.

Mrs. Amber hesitated, too.

"It's quite right to be careful," she replied.

"After all," said Marie, her irritation breaking out, too rebellious
for all bonds, "I don't want it, mother. I'll only have to do the
grate to-morrow; two grates instead of one. That's all. Such is life!"

Mrs. Amber looked into the fire.

"I'll tell you what," said she slowly. "You lie down on your bed. I
don't know why I didn't think of it before. There's a gas fire there,
and we'll have that."

"There are such things as gas bills, too."

"And a time to worry over them," said Mrs. Amber tartly; "but this
isn't the time. You're going to be comfortable, and I'm going to make
you so. You'll come along with me right now, my duck, and in five
minutes you'll say what a wise old woman you've got for a mother."

Suddenly Marie leaned upon her mother and obeyed. She was lying on her
bed under the pink quilt, and Mrs. Amber had her hat and coat and
walking-shoes off, and the gas fire began to purr, and a heavenly
comfort visited her. She knew reluctantly that these matrons were
horribly wise women, after all. She looked into her mother's eyes, and
saw there the question which cried in her heart, but she could not
read it. It was too old for her.