"Not a cent!" Bert said cheerfully. He glanced about at his
excited sons; his wife, bareheaded, and still pale, if smiling;
his daughter just over her tears; and his baby, plump and happy in
her little white petticoat. "I guess we got most everything out of
the house that I care much about!" smiled Bert.




Chapter Thirty-five


For two hours more the Bradleys sat as they were, and watched the
swift ruin of their home. Nancy's hot face cooled by degrees, and
she showed an occasional faint interest in the details of the
calamity; this chair was saved, that was good; this clock was in
ruins, no matter. She did not loosen her hold on Anne, and the
little girl sat contentedly in her mother's lap, but the boys
foraged, and shouted as they dashed to and fro. Over and over
again she reassured them; it was too bad, of course, but Mother
and Dad did not mind very much. She thanked the neighbours who
brought chairs and pillows and odd plates, and piled them near
her.

She and Bert were wrapped in a sort of stupor, after the events of
the hot afternoon. Bert seemed to forget that a meal and a
sleeping place must be provided for his tribe, and that his face
was shockingly dirty, and he wore no coat. He found it delicious
to have the placid Priscilla finish her interrupted nap in his
arms, and enjoyed his sons' comments as they came and went.