It's Saturday.
Pa stopped whistling to smile at her. He slapped the last bit of mud between the logs and smoothed it and set down the bucket. At last the house was finished. Pa said that he wished they had glass for the windows and Ma said that they didn’t need glass. Pa said that that was just the same, if he did well with his hunting and trapping this winter, he was going to get some glass in Independence next spring. Pa asked Ma to hang the expenses. Ma said that glass windows would be nice if they could afford them, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. They were all happy that night. The fire on the hearth was pleasant, for on the High Prairie even the summer nights were cool. The red-checked cloth was on the table, the little china woman glimmered on the mantel-shelf, and the new floor was golden in the flickering firelight. Outside, the night was large and full of stars. Pa sat for a long time in the doorway and played his fiddle and sang to Ma and Mary and Laura in the house and to the starry night outside.
