Ack, of a hollow cough. He put down the newspaper, got up, and slowly

[Mcelheny]

Down there. The frost has painted things up for you; the sumac bushes
are flaming and the running briars on the fences are streams of fire.
Come on." He took her by the hand and led her away. CHAPTER IX. Within a
few days a great change was wrought in the appearance of the old log
house. The roof, which had been humped in the middle like the back of a
lean, acorn-hunting hog, was straightened and reshingled; the yard was
enclosed with a neat fence; and the stack chimney which had leaned off
from the house as if it would fall, was shoved back and held in place
with strong iron bands. And the interior was transformed. Soft carpets
were spread, easy chairs provided, the rough walls were papered and the
windows were curtained. The fire-light fell upon pictures, and a cat had
come to take her place at the corner of the hearth; but in the dead of
night, when all the birds were hushed, when the wind moaned in the plum
thicket, the hollow and distressing cough echoed throughout the house.
At evening sorrowful-looking
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