"It almost seems I heard a giant fall down the chimney," the Irish girl
whispered hoarsely.
"I dare say you did hear the bricks falling. There's a gallon or two
of soot in the dining-room fireplace for you to clean up in the
morning."
"'Tis easy, that, compared wid cleaning up the whole house that seemed
like to tumble!" said Moya with a sigh of relief.
The children were already asleep and the remainder of the night was
unbroken by any sound save the dripping of the raindrops from the
branches and the swish of wet leaves against each other when a light
breeze revived their former activities.
Little Vladimir was up early with a memory of something queer having
happened in the night. He was eager to go downstairs and find out what
it was all about and his mother dressed him and let him out of her room
and then turned over to take another nap. When Moya went down to set
the oil stove in position for use he was amusing himself contentedly
with the rubbish in the fireplace, his face and hands already in need
of renewed attention from his mother.
"'Tis the sooty-faced young one ye are," she called to him
good-naturedly.
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