Page:Shingle-short-Baughan-1908.djvu/81

 Then, one ’ud shift the back-log, for the hot red beneath, One ’ud pile the kindling on, and blow with all her breath, An’, wide on the dreadful Dark, an’ creepy, curdly Cold, One ’ud run and fling the door, an’ nobody ’ud scold!

“Coo-ee....Coo-ee!”....closer ’d come the sound.... Peer an’ peer....at last we’d hear her being run aground! Footsteps up the shingle! Shout!....and answering shout! Out we’d run an’ pull ’em in, an’ shut the Darkness out!

Father, Uncle Eb, an’ big brother Dave— Oh, so wet an’ salty! Oh, so big and brave! Good it was to hug them, an’ warm their wintry cheeks— Sometimes they’d been up in Town, weather-bound for weeks.

Then I’d be at the bellows, an’ I’d blow, blow, blow, Till the brown walls were ruddy, an’ the wharé all a-glow. Merrily danced the fire-flicker, bright the flashes danced, Upon merry heart-lit faces, an’ bright eyes that danced.