They were sitting about the open fire in the short evening, Ellen, Hen, Nannie, Joe, and Dick. Jasper had gone to his bed in the rear of the cabin room and slept, his face turned away from the firelight.

‘The light in the sky last night was Lobe Baker’s stable,’ Hen said. ‘Baker’s stable went up last night. Lum Crouch passed along the lane just afore dark. He told me.’

‘Nohow my Pap didn’t burn it,’ Joe said. ‘Pap wasn’t offen the place for two days back.’

‘I wouldn’t let e’er other boy even say what you said. Of course Pap didn’t,’ Hen said.

‘Pap wasn’t off this place for two days, three, was he Mammy? I’d swear to that in court.’

‘Nobody thinks Pap burned it,’ Ellen said. ‘Don’t talk about any such. Pap was right here with us and nohow he never. Don’t even say it in a joke.’

‘A fire at night against the sky is a sight to see,’ Nannie said. ‘Last night it was. Like the end of the world. Like the song, “Cast on Water”. Scotland to burn, all Scotland in the song.’

‘I aim to know songs and about the things in songs,’ Dick said, speaking softly. ‘I aim to know more than I can now think about or tell.’

‘Mammy can sing you a heap of songs herself,’ Hen said. ‘You could learn a heap from Mammy.’

‘I already know all Mammy knows. And I want better. And more. I want more than songs. And I want better than “Bangum and the Boar” and “Mary Go and Call” and “Lady Nancy Belle”. Better than any you’d name.’

‘“Nancy Belle” is a good piece,’ Nannie said, ‘and “Sweet William” too.’

‘I want better. It’s a good piece enough but I want songs I never yet heard. There must be better songs, a hundred maybe, songs to tell you all you want to know about the world.’

‘“Sweet William” is like a story book. Sing “Sweet William”, Mammy.’

‘I want better songs,’ Dick said. ‘I already know “Sweet William”. And I want books to know and read over and over. I aim to have some of the wisdom of the world, or as much as ever I can get a hold on. There’s a heap of wisdom in books, it’s said, all the learnen of the world, and that’s what I want to have, or as much as ever I can. I couldn’t bear not to. I couldn’t bear to settle down in life and not.’

The strangeness of Dick’s want bewildered Ellen and saddened her until her contemplation passed into a remote rapture. This strange want rendered her speechless while the children sat on by the fire or stole away one by one to their beds, for she felt her own being, in Dick, pushed outward against the great over-lying barrier, the enveloping dark. His want startled her with its determination and its reach, coming upon her as something she knew already, had always known, now enhanced and magnified, unappeased. She continued to sit beside the fire long after they were gone, trying to penetrate the thought, her eyes on the embers. Finally she went to her bed, lying down beyond Jasper, with the curious sadness still about her.