ears
after Edith's death. Majendie had left the yacht lying in the creek with
Pearson, Steve, and the boatswain on board, and was hurrying along the
field path to Three Elms Farm. A thin rain fell, blurring the distances.
The house stood humbly, under its three elms. A light was burning in one
window. Maggie stood at the garden gate in the rain, listening for the
click of the field gate which was his signal. When it sounded she came
down the path to meet him. She put her hands upon his shoulders, drew
down his face and kissed him. He took her arm and led her, half clinging
to him, into the house and into the lighted room.

A fire burned brightly on the hearth. His chair was set for him beside
it, and Maggie's chair opposite. The small round table in the middle
of the room was laid for supper. Maggie had decorated walls and
chimney-piece and table with chrysanthemums from the garden, and autumn
leaves and ivy from the hedgerows. The room had a glad light and welcome
for him.

As he came into the lamplight Maggie gave one quick anxious look at him.
She had always two thoughts in her little mind between their meetings: Is
he ill? Is he well?

He was, to the outward seeing eye, superlatively well. Three years of
life lived in the open air, life lived according to the will of nature,
had given him back his outward and visible health. At thirty-nine,
Majendie had once more the strength, the firm, upright slenderness, and
the brilliance of his youth. His face was keen and brown, fined and
freshened by wind and weather.

Maggie, waiting humbly on his mood, saw that it was propitious.

"What cold hands," said she. "And no overcoat? You bad boy." She felt his
clothes all over to feel if they were damp. "Tired?"

"Just a little, Maggie."

She drew up his chair to the fire, and knelt down to unlace his boots.

"No, Maggie, I can't let you take my boots off."

"Yes, you can, and you will. Does _she_ ever take your boots off?"

"Never."

"You don't allow her?"

"No. I don't allow her."

"You allow _me_" said Maggie triumphantly. She was persuaded that (since
his wife was denied the joy of waiting on him) hers was the truly
desirable position. Majendie had never had the heart to enlighten her.

She pressed his feet with her soft hands, to feel if his stockings were
damp, too.

"There's a little hole," she cried. "I shall have to mend that to-night."

She put cushions at his back, and sat down on the floor beside hi