The sunshine came like a shower of gold through the west window,
glorifying everything it touched. Charlotte, feeling extremely
capable, began with great energy to add an extra polish to the
apples which she was to bake.
Suddenly Dorothy raised her head and sniffed the air. "I smell
smoke. Oh, Charlotte, look at your stove," she cried.
Even as she spoke the smoke poured out around the covers in great
volume. Clouds of smoke forced their way through hitherto unsuspected
cracks.
"Open the windows," gasped Betty, whom the stinging wood smoke
almost blinded.
"Perhaps I turned the dampers wrong," cried Charlotte, making a
dash for the stove, and turning the oven draught. The result was
disastrous, for the smoke rolled out with still greater violence,
only to be met and beaten back into the room by the air from the
windows. Charlotte turned the oven draught again, and then stood
helpless.
Suddenly Betty bethought herself of what her mother had told her.
"There's a damper in the stovepipe," she choked, covering her
streaming eyes with one hand, and waving the other wildly in the
air. "Did you touch that?"
"Yes," gasped Charlotte.
"Well, turn it the way it isn't, quick," and while Charlotte
reached for the damper, Betty groped her way to the sink to soothe
her afflicted eyes with cold water.
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