Page 29 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

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"HOW DID YOU DO THAT, GRANDPA?" HANNAH ASKED,
turning around.
Behind her the elegant meal, with its many plates,
goblets, glasses, and silverware, was gone. Instead there
was a polished table on which a single wooden bowl sat
between two ornate silver candlesticks. A black stove,
pouring out heat, squatted against the far wall. There
were shelves on either side of the stove, filled with
crockery, pots, and linens. Several strings of onions
hung from the ceiling. The room smelled of fresh-baked
bread.
It must be the wine, Hannah thought. It's giving me
daydreams.
"Well?" The question came from behind her in a
woman's voice, strongly accented. "Is he coming?"
Confused, Hannah looked around for the speaker.
"The prophet Elijah?" she asked.

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