On it were four deeply carved lines.

The quaint Old English lettering was filled even to the surface with a red mortar, while the capitals were done in dull blue.

The girl slowly read: Voiceless stones, with Flame-tongues Preach Sermons struck from Nature's Lyre; Notes of Love and Trust and Hope Hourly sing in Linda's Fire.
In the firebox stood a squat pair of black andirons, showing age and usage.

A rough eucalyptus log waited across them while the shavings from the placing of the mantel and the cutting of the windows were tucked beneath it.

Linda stood absorbed a minute.