It was wonderful what four pairs of arms could accomplish when love actuated them. "Spite House" had seemed hopelessly bare and dirty when the little household first entered it, but it was far from that by the end of a week's stay. Bare and bleak and unadorned it was still, and the surroundings seemed to forbid that it would ever be any better. But there was not an inch of its surface, outside or in, that had not been cleaned and polished, by scrubbing or whitewash brush. Even the moss-grown roof had been swept by Fayette, standing barefooted and unsupported on the sloping shingles, while he vigorously attacked them. To Hallam this seemed a desecration. The moss had been the one redeeming feature of the roof's ugliness. "Saints save us! If we leave go that muck up yon, it'll be like me dressin' for mass an' no rackin' down me hair, so it would. No, Master Hal, if riches we can't have, cleanness we can. An' that's aye more pleasin' to God." The plain, strong furniture which had been in the house had been placed to best advantage; and in the parents' rooms above, as well as the one family living room below, were gathered all that had been brought from dear Fairacres. A load of wood and another of coal, which Cleena supposed had been sent by Friend Adam and paid for with her money, gave a comfortable look to the woodshed, and in the storeroom was a bag of flour, a side of bacon, a fair supply of vegetables, and a barrel of apples. These the village grocer's lad had brought in his delivery wagon, and it was useless to ask him by whose order. Since they were needed, however, it was well to take them in and to consider them as belonging with the wood and coal. Finally, the Saturday afternoon arrived on which Hallam and Amy were to go to the Clove, to pass First Day with Adam Burn and their parents, returning before nightfall with the latter, to begin their reunited family life. Dressed in their freshest clothes, upon Balaam and Pepita, groomed by the willing hands of Fayette, they journeyed gayly down the slope over the familiar road, eager for their visit and the warm welcome awaiting them. "Do you know, Amy, it's queer that we've never been about alone much, even on these country roads, till now? Losing our home seems to have broken down ever so many restrictions." "Well, don't you like it? Doesn't it make you feel freer and healthier?" "Maybe. I'm not enthusiastic over our poverty. I'd be glad enough to go back to Fairacres." "So would I, if we could live there honestly. I wouldn't go, not for one day, if I could help it, to live in debt as we did." "Aren't we living in debt just the same now, and much more uncomfortably?" "I suppose so; though it's different. This time it isn't going to last, and we haven't shut our eyes to it." "Why isn't it going to last? How can we stop it? I see nothing ahead except starvation."