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"
But
the
fire
—
"
said
Douglas
.
"
Sure
,
the
fire
,
the
garage
!
But
like
Lena
said
,
it
don
’
t
take
a
year
to
figure
;
what
burned
in
the
garage
don
’
t
count
!
"
They
followed
him
up
the
front
-
porch
steps
.
"
Here
,
"
whispered
Leo
Auffmann
,
"
the
front
window
.
Quiet
,
and
you
’
ll
see
it
.
"
Hesitantly
,
Grandfather
,
Douglas
,
and
Tom
peered
through
the
large
windowpane
.
And
there
,
in
small
warm
pools
of
lamplight
,
you
could
see
what
Leo
Auffmann
wanted
you
to
see
.
There
sat
Saul
and
Marshall
,
playing
chess
at
the
coffee
table
.
In
the
dining
room
Rebecca
was
laying
out
the
silver
.
Naomi
was
cutting
paper
-
doll
dresses
.
Ruth
was
painting
water
colors
.
Joseph
was
running
his
electric
train
.
Through
the
kitchen
door
,
Lena
Auffmann
was
sliding
a
pot
roast
from
the
steaming
oven
.
Every
hand
,
every
head
,
every
mouth
made
a
big
or
little
motion
.
You
could
hear
their
faraway
voices
under
glass
.
You
could
hear
someone
singing
in
a
high
sweet
voice
.
You
could
smell
bread
baking
,
too
,
and
you
knew
it
was
real
bread
that
would
soon
be
covered
with
real
butter
.
Everything
was
there
and
it
was
working
.
Grandfather
,
Douglas
,
and
Tom
turned
to
look
at
Leo
Auffmann
,
who
gazed
serenely
through
the
window
,
the
pink
light
on
his
cheeks
.
"
Sure
,
"
he
murmured
.
"
There
it
is
.
"
And
he
watched
with
now
-
gentle
sorrow
and
now
-
quick
delight
,
and
at
last
quiet
acceptance
as
all
the
bits
and
pieces
of
this
house
mixed
,
stirred
,
settled
,
poised
,
and
ran
steadily
again
.
"
The
Happiness
Machine
,
"
he
said
.
"
The
Happiness
Machine
.
"
A
moment
later
he
was
gone
.
Inside
,
Grandfather
,
Douglas
,
and
Tom
saw
him
tinkering
,
making
a
minor
adjustment
here
,
eliminate
friction
there
,
busy
among
all
those
warm
,
wonderful
,
infinitely
delicate
,
forever
mysterious
,
and
ever
-
moving
parts
.
Then
smiling
,
they
went
down
the
steps
into
the
fresh
summer
night
.
