I can relate to this story. Years ago I was cleaning out a cabin owned by a crazy old dead uncle of mine. And I found a short poem. The first line was: “There once was a hermit named Dave.”
There was no author listed. But I think it was written by Louisa May Alcott.
SUSAN: Daddy..
MR. ROSS: Yes?
SUSAN: Daddy, about the cabin..
MRS. ROSS: (Laughing, she points to her shirt) Look, Henry, I spilled wine on me! (Laughs again)
MR. ROSS: (To Susan) What about it?
SUSAN: Well, the thing is..
MR. ROSS: What? What is it?
SUSAN: Well, the - the cabin, is, kind of, uh.. George?
GEORGE: (Extremely blunt) Burned.