[Ichilli-cvs] of her opinion. Yet Sylvia's face at the present moment was as empty as though sh

[Jonathon M. <to...@de...>]

Room to take the kettle off the stove, only to place it back again the
next instant. Then at last she seated herself by an open piano. There
was very little furniture in the room except the piano, a small cot and
the table. Yet it had an atmosphere of home and comfort, such as some
persons are able to give to a tent in a desert. And standing in a row at
the back of the same tea table were three candles in ten-cent-store
glass candlesticks, waiting to be lighted. The afternoon was a dismal
one, with occasional flurries of snow; so that when the proper time came
for the candle-lighting, the flames would not be ungrateful. But in
order to make the waiting seem less long the girl was evidently trying
to distract her attention by practicing her music. Several times she
sang over the scales. And then, dissatisfied with her own work, repeated
them until finally her voice rose with unusual resonance and power.
Then, after another slight pause, she drifted almost unconsciously into
the words of a song: "Burn, fire, burn! Flicker, flicker, flame! Whose
hand above thi