e was a stool made by sawing off
about six inches of the butt of a small ash tree. The bark remained
on, and it was not smoothed or trimmed in any way. This mere log was
Cicely Luckett's favourite seat as a girl; she was Hilary's only
daughter. The kitchen had perhaps originally been the house, the rest
having been added to it in the course of years as the mode of life
changed and increasing civilisation demanded more convenience and
comfort. The walls were quite four feet thick, and the one small
lattice-window in its deep recess scarcely let in sufficient light,
even on a summer's day, to dispel the gloom, except at one particular
time.

The little panes, yellow and green, were but just above the ground,
looking out upon the road into the rickyard, so that the birds which
came searching along among the grasses and pieces of wood thrown
carelessly aside against the wall could see into the room. Robins, of
course, came every morning, perching on the sill and peering in with
the head held on one side. Blackbird and thrush came, but always
passed the window itself quickly, though they stayed without fear
within a few inches of it on either hand.

There was an old oak table in the centre of the room--a table so solid
that young Aaron, the strong labourer, could only move it with
difficulty. There was no ceiling properly speaking, the boards of the
floor above and a thick beam which upheld it being only whitewashed;
and much of that had scaled off. An oaken door led down a few steps
into the cellar, and over both cellar and kitchen there sloped a long
roof, thatched, whose eaves were but just above the ground.

Now, when there was no one in the kitchen, as in the afternoon, when
even the indoor servants had gone out to help in the hayfield, little
Cicely used to come in here and sit dreaming on the ash log by the
hearth. The rude stool was always placed inside the fireplace, which
was very broad for burning wood, faggots and split pieces of timber.
Bending over the grey ashes, she could see right up the great broad
tunnel of the chimney to the blue sky above, which seemed the more
deeply azure, as it does from the bottom of a well. In the evenings
when she looked up she sometimes saw a star shining above. In the
early mornings of the spring, as she came rushing down to breakfast,
the tiny yellow panes of the window which faced the east were all lit
up and rosy with the rays of the rising sun.

The beautiful light came