CHAPTER XXIX

Valancytoilednot,neitherdidshespin.Therewasreallyverylittleworktodo.Shecookedtheirmealsonacoal-oilstove,performingallherlittledomesticritescarefullyandexultingly,andtheyateoutontheverandahthatalmostoverhungthelake.BeforethemlayMistawis,likeasceneoutofsomefairytaleofoldtime.AndBarneysmilinghistwisted,enigmaticalsmileatheracrossthetable. “WhataviewoldTompickedoutwhenhebuiltthisshack!”Barneywouldsayexultantly. SupperwasthemealValancylikedbest.ThefaintlaughterofwindswasalwaysaboutthemandthecoloursofMistawis,imperialandspiritual,underthechangingcloudsweresomethingthatcannotbeexpressedinmerewords.Shadows,too.ClusteringinthepinesuntilawindshookthemoutandpursuedthemoverMistawis.Theylayalldayalongtheshores,threadedbyfernsandwildblossoms.Theystolearoundtheheadlandsintheglowofthesunset,untiltwilightwovethemallintoonegreatwebofdusk. Thecats,withtheirwise,innocentlittlefaces,wouldsitontheverandahrailingandeatthetidbitsBarneyflungthem.Andhowgoodeverythingtasted!Valancy,amidalltheromanceofMistawis,neverforgotthatmenhadstomachs.Barneypaidhernoendofcomplimentsonhercooking. “Afterall,”headmitted,“there’ssomethingtobesaidforsquaremeals.I’vemostlygotalongbyboilingtwoorthreedozeneggshardatonceandeatingafewwhenIgothungry,withasliceofbacononceinawhileandajorumoftea.” ValancypouredteaoutofBarney’slittlebatteredoldpewterteapotofincredibleage.Shehadnotevenasetofdishes—onlyBarney’smismatchedchippedbits—andadear,big,pobbyoldjugofrobin’s-eggblue. Afterthemealwasovertheywouldsitthereandtalkforhours—orsitandsaynothing,inallthelanguagesoftheworld,Barneypu