The Homemaker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher — Read

Mrs. Anderson never forgot a detail of what happened that afternoon, and she soon became letter-perfect in her often-repeated statement of the essential facts. She told and retold her story word for word like a recitation learned by heart, without alteration; except as she allowed herself from time to time to stress a little more heavily her own importance as the only witness who had seen everything, to insist yet more vehemently on her absolute freedom from responsibility for the catastrophe.

"It was icy that afternoon, you know how it had thawed in the morning and then turned cold, and I was real nervous about slipping. I'm not so steady on my feet as I was fifty years ago and when I saw Mrs. Knapp putting on her things to leave the Guild meeting I said to her, ‘Mrs. Knapp,' I said, ‘won't you let me go along with you and take your arm over the icy places? I'm real nervous about slipping,' I said. And she said, ‘Yes, of course,' and we started out and I felt so relieved to have her to hold to. She's the kind you couldn't imagine slipping, you know, the kind you'd want to take her arm over hard places. She's a wonderful woman, Mrs. Knapp is. I always said so even before all this happened. There's nothing she can't do. You ought to see the parlor furniture she recovered with her own hands, as good as any upholsterer you ever saw. And then didn't her Henry pester her to let him have a dog, and a white dog at that! Of course she didn't let him -- you know how a white dog's hairs will show. When I was a girl I remember my Aunt Esther had a white dog -- but I was telling you about how we first saw the fire. We had just turned the corner by Wertheimer's and I was looking down to pick my way, and Mrs. Knapp said, ‘Good gracious, Mrs. Anderson, what's that on your roof? ' I looked quick but I couldn't see anything, and she said, ‘It looks like a -- oh, yes, I see, a flame right by your chimney.'