At the bare thought we all quake.

I am in the pleasant situation, just at present, of owning a chilled body and a blazing face.
Chiefest among the cooks have I been, and now I am sitting trying to fan my red cheeks and redder nose, with the back of an old atlas, gutted in some ancient broil, trying, in deference to Sir Roger, to cool down my appearance a little against prayer-time.

Alas! that epoch is nearer than I think.

Ting! tang! the loud bell is ringing through the house.

My hair is loosened and tumbled with stooping over the fire, and I have burnt a hole right in the fore front of my gown, by letting a hot cinder fall from the grate upon it.