She got up and moved slowly toward the back door, while the dog trotted along nimbly on his three legs after her. Why, what a vault! and Gippie shivered and turned his short-sighted eyes in the direction of the kitchen stove. It was black and cold, and the old man, sitting in the draughtiest corner of the room, right by the cellar door, was a dull, mottled purple. He did not speak when the door opened. He was morose and silent, and his whole appearance was that of a man in extreme distress.