A Question at Hob’s Landing

At Hob’s Landing a girl tugged the coat of old Ansel Crake, who had lit lone lamps on that hill since before her mother was born. Why is the Lantern so small now? she asked. He rubbed his eyes and said it was dying the way old fires do, slowly and without apology, so the trick was catching what was left before it went out. Far off in the hills House Via’s bell rang, and neither of them looked up.