e 's really much the matter with me,
really, and I'm sure I could manage it if you're anxious to get away.
But perhaps to-morrow...."

"Mrs. Papineau has been ever so kind to me," answered the girl,
slowly. "That sort of thing is such a comfort, especially when--when
one isn't used to it. Nobody ever took such care of me over there in
New York. I've had plenty to eat and a nice warm place to sleep in. I
haven't been used to much luxury where--where I came from. And--and
you mustn't mind me. It will always be time enough to go, but--but I
won't know how to thank this--this kindly woman."

Hugo didn't know whether these words held a reproach to him, but they
sounded very hopeless and sad. The girl had sat down again, on a low
stool near the fire. A chimney had been built in a corner, to
supplement the stove, and she was looking intently at the bright
flames leaping up and the fat curling smoke that rose in little
patches, as bits of white bark twisted and crackled. Mrs. Papineau had
gone back to the stove at the other end of the room, where she and her
eldest girl had been washing dishes. In the rising sparks of the logs
on fire Madge saw queer designs, strange moving forms her eyes
followed mechanically. She felt that she was merely waiting--waiting
for the worst that was yet to come, but the heat was grateful.

"If that's the case we might as well postpone the trip for a day,"
Hugo acknowledged, somewhat shamefacedly. "I don't often get played
out but for some reason I'm not quite up to the mark to-day."

"You keep still an' rest yourself a bit," Mrs. Papineau ordered,
coming back to him and feeling his pulse gravely, whereat she made a
wry face. She informed him that he undoubtedly had a fever and must
remain absolutely quiet while she brewed him a decoction of potent
herbs she had herself picked and stored away.

Madge looked at Hugo again, anxiously, feeling that her careless
handling of that little pistol was undoubtedly responsible for his
illness. Their eyes met and he managed to smile.

"A mere man can do nothing but obey when a woman commands, Miss
Nelson," he declared, with a weak attempt at jocularity. "I'm sure
it's dreadful stuff she's going to make me swallow. Still, I'm glad of
a short rest."

He drew his chair a little nearer, and, speaking in a lower voice,
went on:

"I'll tell you, Miss Nelson. We--we perhaps owe one another some
explanations. It happens that I've found something. It's the que