now, suddenly detached from the aimless procession
of the past months, it was palpable to him, unendurable.
"It's not fit for a dog," he pronounced.

An expression of determination settled on his
seamed countenance; he took off his coat and hung
it on a peg in the door. Outside, by an ash-pit,
he found a bucket and half-buried shovel. A minute
after the kitchen was filled with grey clouds as
he shoveled the ashes into the bucket for removal.
He worked vigorously, and the pile soon disappeared;
the wood and coal followed, carried out to
where a bin was built against the house. Then he
raked the fire from the stove.

It was cold within, but Gordon glowed with the
heat of his energy. He filled a basin with water,
and, with an old brush and piece of sandsoap, attacked
the stove. He scrubbed until the surface
exhibited a dull, even black; then, in a cupboard, he
discovered an old box of stove polish, and soon the
iron was gleaming in the lamplight. He laid and
lit a fire, put on a tin boiler of water for heating;
and then carried all the movables into the night.
After which he fed General Jackson.

He flooded the kitchen floor and scrubbed and
scraped until the boards were immaculate. Then,
with a wet towel about a broom, he cleaned the walls
and ceiling; he washed the panes of window glass.
The dishes followed; they were dried and ranged

[[292]]

p291 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p292w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p293

v?