IV
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now, as you listen to a tale of woe rising with the blue mists from the fir-clad hills of Oregon. You will remember that the burned and blistered cooks of the fireplace had rebelled; that the edict had gone forth that the kitchen range should go up at once, as but one loaf of bread remained in sight—and now, alas! even that had vanished. You will hardly believe that “Pandora” was hidden away within the interior of that innocent-looking range! The very instant violent hands were laid upon it, that malignant goddess raised the lid of her direful box, and such a swarm of undreamed-of troubles buzzed about us! In the first place, the stove had been left by the teamsters on the dining-room porch instead of the kitchen porch. It was impossible now to carry it through the former room, which was packed solidly from floor to ceiling with boxes and crated goods. To take it around the house, on a muddy, slippery hillside, looked an impossibility.
To add to the general wretchedness of things, the weather had changed in the night; the rain had turned to sleet, and now snow was falling, freezing as it fell. After much scheming the ponderous stove was finally
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