, and though some of the workmen
remembered them, not one of them could tell how they were constructed,
and the idea of an outside chimney was comically absurd.

All these forces working against me had, thus far, prevented me from
experimenting, and perhaps even now the towering base-burner would have
remained our family shrine had not Mary Isabel put in a wordless plea.
Less than four hundred days old, she was, nevertheless wise in
fireplaces. She had begun to burble in the light of the Severances'
hearth in Minnesota, and her eyes had reflected the flame and shadow of
a noble open fire in Katharine Herne's homestead on Peconic Bay. Her
cheeks had reddened like apples in the glory of that hickory flame, and
when she came to our small apartment in New York City she had seemed
surprised and sadly disappointed by the gas pipes and asbestos mat,
which made up a hollow show under a gimcrack mantel. Now here, in her
own home, was she to remain without the witchery of crackling flame?

As the cold winds of September began to blow my resolution was taken.
"That fireplace must be built. My daughter shall not be cheated of
beamed ceilings and the glory of the blazing log."

Zulime, in alarm, again cried out as mother used to do: "Consider the
expense!"

"Hang the expense! Consider the comfort, the beauty of the embers. Think
of Mary Isabel with her eyes reflecting their light. Imagine the old
soldier sitting on the hearth holding his granddaughter----"

She smiled in timorous surrender. "I can see you are bound to do it,"
she said, "but where can it be built?"

Alas! there was only one available space, a narrow wall between the two
west windows. "We'll cut the windows down, or move them," I said, with
calm resolution.

"I hate a _little_ fireplace," protested Zulime.

"It can't be huge," I admitted, "but it can be real. It can be as _deep_
as we want it."

Having decided upon the enterprise I hurried forth to engage the hands
to do the work. I could not endure a day's delay.

The first carpenter with whom I spoke knew nothing about such things.
The next one had helped to put in one small "hard-coal, wall pocket,"
and the third man had seen fireplaces in Norway, but remembered little
about their construction. After studying Zulime's sketch of what we
wanted, he gloomily remarked, "I don't believe I can make that thing
_gee_."

Zulime was disheartened by all this, but Mary Isabel climbed to my knee
as if to say, "Bop