That's What I Look At Some People

But I Suppose There Might Be Good In Things, Even If We Don't See It.

On The Hob Was A Little Brass Kettle, Hissing And Boiling; Spread Upon The Floor Was A Warm, Thick Rug; Before The Fire Was A Folding-chair, Unfolded And With Cushions On It; By The Chair Was A Small Folding-table, Unfolded, Covered With A White Cloth, And Upon It Were Spread Small Covered Dishes, A Cup And Saucer, And A Tea-pot; On The Bed Were New, Warm Coverings, A Curious Wadded Silk Robe, And Some Books. The Little, Cold, Miserable Room Seemed Changed Into Fairyland. It Was Actually Warm And Glowing.

Somehow, Something Always Happens Just Before Things Get To The Very Worst. It Is As If Magic Did It. If I Could Only Just Remember That Always. The Worse Thing Never Quite Comes.

Listen To Th' Wind Wutherin' Round The House," She Said. "you Could Bare Stand Up On The Moor If You Was Out On It Tonight." Mary Did Not Know What "wutherin'" Meant Until She Listened, And Then She Understood. It Must Mean That Hollow Shuddering Sort Of Roar Which Rushed Round And Round The House, As If The Giant No One Could See Were Buffeting It And Beating At The Walls And Windows To Try To Break In. But One Knew He Could Not Get In, And Somehow It Made One Feel Very Safe And Warm Inside A Room With A Red Coal Fire.

Of Course There Must Be Lots Of Magic In The World, But People Don't Know What It Is Like Or How To Make It.