"You never can get so many nails out of the fire in the world," said Phonny. "They will be lost in the ashes." "I shall put them on the shovel," said Stuyvesant. When they got into the kitchen, Stuyvesant went to Dorothy, who was still ironing at a table near the window, and asked her if he might use her shovel and her fire to heat some nails. "Certainly," said Dorothy. "I will go and move the flat-irons out of the way for you." Stuyvesant was always very particular whenever he went into the kitchen, to treat Dorothy with great respect. He regarded the kitchen as Dorothy's peculiar and proper dominion, and would have considered it very rude and wrong to have been noisy in it, or to take possession of, and use without her leave, the things which were under her charge there. Dorothy observed this, and was very much pleased with it, and as might naturally be expected, she was always glad to have Stuyvesant come into the kitchen, and do any thing that he pleased there. There was a large forestick lying across the andirons, with a burning bed of coals below. Directly in front of these coals was a row of flat-irons. Stuyvesant put his nails upon a long-handled shovel, and Dorothy moved away one of the flat-irons, so that he could put the shovel, with the nails upon it, in among the burning coals. "Now," said he, "it will take some time for them to get hot, and I will go and clear out the floor of the hen-house in the meanwhile." "Well," said Phonny, "I will help you." "Only," said Stuyvesant, turning to Dorothy, "will you look at the nails when you take up your irons, and if you see that they get red-hot, take the shovel out from the coals and set it down somewhere on the hearth to cool?" "Yes," said Dorothy, "but what are you going to heat the nails for?" "To take the stiffness out of them," said Stuyvesant. "To take the stiffness out?" replied Dorothy. "What do you wish to do that for?" "So that I can clinch them," replied Stuyvesant, "and I should like to have you take them off the fire as soon as you see that they are red-hot." [Illustration: DOROTHY'S FIRE.] "Yes," said Dorothy, "I will." So Phonny and Stuyvesant went away, while Dorothy resumed her ironing. They got a wheel-barrow and a rake, and went out to the hen-house. They raked the floor all over, drawing out the old straw, sticks, &c., to the door. They then with a fork pitched this rubbish into the wheel-barrow, and wheeled it out, and made a heap of it in a clear place at some distance from the buildings, intending to set it on fire. There were four wheel-barrow loads of it in all. They then went into the barn and brought out a quantity of hay, and sprinkled it all over the floor of the hen-house, which made the apartment look extremely neat and comfortable. They then brought out another fork-full of hay and pitched it up upon the loft. "There!" said Stuyvesant, "now when we have got our ladder done, we will climb up and spread it about." "Hark!" said Phonny.