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and Loring had dearly loved it. It led to the basement of the house, which, behind, projected out of a hill, and so was an alternate first floor on one side. That room will not be discussed at this time, but it is there the trapdoor led. If Stan saw it, he said nothing.
    And indeed, it is quite likely that he did not see it, for there was little light in the room. That is the first thing Loring set about fixing, for as she would have said, if asked, another of Ezra’s rules was that one ought not be in a dark kitchen, as it tempts fate.
    By this he would never mean that an accident of one sort or another might happen there.
    So, the kitchen table at one end, and windows all along, looking out. A stove in a corner, and shelves hanging here and there between windows. Pots, pans, herbs, etc., also hanging. Chairs of a delicate character, long-limbed, thin-armed chairs which drew many compliments always, doubly. That is to say, one complimented first their appearance, and then one sat, and complimented again, saying the appearance, however fine, was no match for the actual experience of sitting.
    Sadly, such a thing would be lost on Stan, being that he lacked the appropriate proportion to truly understand the chairs. He clambered up into one as Loring opened the windows and flung out the shutters.
    She fetched a cushion from a closet, and gave it him. He, in putting the cushion down, stood on the chair, and had a look around.
    Out the window (for now he could see well through the window) there was a fine sight.

Standing u pon a Chair, He Beheld
    an absolute armada of hot air balloons flooding into view from the west.
    —Do you see that?
    Loring turned.
    —Ah, yes, the Jubilee.
    She spat on the floor. I suppose in the kitchen, with all the sawdust on the floor, spitting was allowed.
    —Many balloons is a jubilee?
    —It would not be a bad definition, said Loring.
    She continued her small tasks, putting the kettle on for tea, lighting the gas, etc.
    Stan watched the procession thread its way through the air. The wind must have changed, or the pilots had decided something, for now the parade led seemingly to the house itself. Balloon after balloon loomed into view and was dragged away out of sight, just when disaster might have come. The people on the balloons were all holding hands and their mouths were shut.
    How difficult it is for a child to understand such things!
    Finally Loring came over, book in hand.
    —Are you ready?
    He sat on the cushion, and curled up in the wide chair.
    —How many balloons does it take to make a jubilee?
    —At least a hundred, said Loring. Any fewer, and it would be paltry. No one would come to see it.

The Second Visit, 4
    Now, you may imagine that she was testing him by reading from this particular book, which, as anyone who has read a biography of Ezra Wesley knows, was the late master’s favorite book. He had read it dozens of times, and this copy was the copy he took with him on long train rides. It was said by some that his compulsive carrying of this book was especially ridiculous on the basis that he had in fact memorized the book. That, though, had never been completely established, for although he had on numerous occasions recited from it, he had never actually recited it in its entirety. In any event, if it was a test, it was a test that began when she started to read, for it was not from the book that she read at all! She had opened another, smaller book, within the first book, and looking down at the boy, who could see none of this, read aloud from it.
    —It was a cold day, and the dogs were dying one by one. As they drew farther into the wilderness, the will of the rider seemingly intensified until the dogs obeyed him even before the desperate pleas of their own ragged frames. They had dragged him for days through that bleak landscape, and now, crossing some invisible barrier in the monochrome world, they all at once set to perishing. And so it was that when the last dog died,