Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. Yes, I can readily believe it. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper.
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