To Ellen's sorrow, she was pronounced next morning well enough to come downstairs; her aunt averring that "it was no use to keep a fire burning up there for nothing." She must get up and dress in the cold again; and winter had fairly set in now; the 19th of December rose clear and keen. Ellen looked sighingly at the heap of ashes and the dead brands in the fireplace where the bright little fire had blazed so cheerfully the evening before. But regrets did not help the matter; and shivering she began to dress as fast as she could. Since her illness, a basin and pitcher had been brought into her room, so the washing at the spout was ended for the present; and though the basin had no place but a chair, and the pitcher must stand on the floor, Ellen thought herself too happy. But how cold it was! The wind swept past her windows, giving wintry shakes to the panes of glass, and through many an opening in the wooden frame-work of the house it came in and saluted Ellen's bare arms and neck. She hurried to finish her dressing, and wrapping her double-gown over all, went down to the kitchen. It was another climate there. A great fire was burning that it quite cheered Ellen's heart to look at; and the air seemed to be full of coffee and buckwheat cakes; Ellen almost thought she should get enough breakfast by the sense of smell. "Ah! here you are," said Miss Fortune. "What have you got that thing on for?" "It was so cold upstairs," said Ellen, drawing up her shoulders. The warmth had not got inside of her wrapper yet. "Well, t'ain't cold here; you better pull it off right away. I've no notion of people's making themselves tender. You'll be warm enough directly. Breakfast'll warm you." Ellen felt almost inclined to quarrel with the breakfast that was offered in exchange for her comfortable wrapper; she pulled it off, however, and sat down without saying anything. Mr. Van Brunt put some cakes on her plate. "If breakfast's agoing to warm you," said he, "make haste and get something down; or drink a cup of coffee; you're as blue as skim milk." "Am I?" said Ellen laughingly; "I feel blue; but I can't eat such a pile of cakes as that, Mr. Van Brunt." As a general thing the meals at Miss Fortune's were silent solemnities; an occasional consultation, or a few questions and remarks about farm affairs, being all that ever passed. The breakfast this morning was a singular exception to the common rule. "I am in a regular quandary," said the mistress of the house, when the meal was about half over. Mr. Van Brunt looked up for an instant, and asked, "What about?" "Why, how I am ever going to do to get those apples and sausage-meat done. If I go to doing 'em myself I shall about get through by spring." "Why don't you make a bee?" said Mr. Van Brunt. "Ain't enough of either on 'em to make it worth while. I ain't agoing to have all the bother of a bee without something to show for't."