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The
boarders
went
to
bed
hungry
.
Douglas
heard
the
courthouse
clock
chime
ten
-
thirty
,
eleven
,
then
midnight
,
heard
the
boarders
stirring
in
their
beds
,
like
a
tide
moving
under
the
moonlit
roof
of
the
vast
house
.
He
knew
they
were
all
awake
,
thinking
,
and
sad
.
After
a
long
time
,
he
sat
up
in
bed
.
He
began
to
smile
at
the
wall
and
the
mirror
.
He
saw
himself
grinning
as
he
opened
the
door
and
crept
downstairs
.
The
parlor
was
dark
and
smelled
old
and
alone
.
He
held
his
breath
.
He
fumbled
into
the
kitchen
and
stood
waiting
a
moment
.
Then
he
began
to
move
.
He
took
the
baking
powder
out
of
its
fine
new
tin
and
put
it
in
an
old
flour
sack
the
way
it
had
always
been
.
He
dusted
the
white
flour
into
an
old
cookie
crock
.
He
removed
the
sugar
from
the
metal
bin
marked
sugar
and
sifted
it
into
a
familiar
series
of
smaller
bins
marked
spices
,
cutlery
,
string
.
He
put
the
cloves
where
they
had
lain
for
years
,
littering
the
bottom
of
half
a
dozen
drawers
.
He
brought
the
dishes
and
knives
and
forks
and
spoons
back
out
on
top
of
the
tables
.
He
found
Grandma
’
s
new
eyeglasses
on
the
parlor
mantel
and
hid
them
in
the
cellar
.
He
kindled
a
great
fire
in
the
old
wood
-
burning
stove
,
using
pages
from
the
new
cookbook
.
By
one
o
’
clock
in
the
still
morning
a
huge
husking
roar
shot
up
in
the
black
stovepipe
,
such
a
wild
roar
that
the
house
,
if
it
had
ever
slept
at
all
,
awoke
.
He
heard
the
rustle
of
Grandma
’
s
slippers
down
the
hall
stairs
.
She
stood
in
the
kitchen
,
blinking
at
the
chaos
.
Douglas
was
hidden
behind
the
pantry
door
.
At
one
-
thirty
in
the
deep
dark
morning
,
the
cooking
odors
blew
up
through
the
windy
corridors
of
the
house
.
Down
the
stairs
,
one
by
one
,
came
women
in
curlers
,
men
in
bathrobes
,
to
tiptoe
and
peer
into
the
kitchen
—
lit
only
by
fitful
gusts
of
red
fire
from
the
hissing
stove
.
And
there
in
the
black
kitchen
at
two
of
a
warm
summer
morning
,
Grandma
floated
like
an
apparition
,
amidst
bangings
and
clatterings
,
half
blind
once
more
,
her
fingers
groping
instinctively
in
the
dimness
,
shaking
out
spice
clouds
over
bubbling
pots
and
simmering
kettles
,
her
face
in
the
firelight
red
,
magical
,
and
enchanted
as
she
seized
and
stirred
and
poured
the
sublime
foods
.
Quiet
,
quiet
,
the
boarders
laid
the
best
linens
and
gleaming
silver
and
lit
candles
rather
than
switch
on
electric
lights
and
snap
the
spell
.
Grandfather
,
arriving
home
from
a
late
evening
’
s
work
at
the
printing
office
,
was
startled
to
hear
grace
being
said
in
the
candlelit
dining
room
.
