t like it."

"Wouldn't you?"

"But I'll tell you this, Minnie," he said, changing his position with
a groan to look up at me, "somebody ought to warn that young man. Human
nature can stand a lot but it can't stand everything. He's overdoing
it!"

"They like it," I said.

"They think they do," he retorted. "Mark my words, Minnie, if he adds
another mile to the walk to-morrow there will be a mutiny. Kingdoms may
be lost by an extra blister on a heel."

Mr. von Inwald had been sitting with his feet straight out, scowling,
but now he turned and looked at me coolly.

"All that keeps me here," he said, "is Minnie's lovely hair. It takes me
mentally back home, Minnie, to a lovely lady--may I have a bit of it to
keep by me?"

"You may not," I retorted angrily.

"Oh! The lovely lady--but never mind that. For the sake of my love for
you, Minnie, find me a cigarette, like a good girl! I am desolate."

"There's no tobacco on the place," I said firmly, and went on with my
sweeping.

"When I was a boy," Mr. Thoburn remarked, looking out thoughtfully
over the snow, "we made a sort of cigarette out of corn-silk. You don't
happen to have any corn-silk about, do you, Minnie?"

"No," I said shortly. "If you take my advice, Mr. Thoburn, you'll go
back to town. You can get all the tobacco you want there--and you're
wasting your time here." I leaned on my broom and looked down at him,
but he was stretching out his foot and painfully working his ankle up
and down.

"Am I?" he asked, looking at his foot. "Well, don't count on it too
much, Minnie. You always inspire me, and sitting here I've just thought
of something."

He got up and hobbled off the porch, followed by Mr. von Inwald. I
saw him say something to Mr. von Inwald, who threw back his head and
laughed. Then I saw them stop and shake hands and go on again in deep
conversation. I felt uneasy.

Doctor Barnes came out that afternoon and watched me while I closed
the windows. He had a package in his hand. He sat on the railing of the
spring and looked at me.

"You're not warmly enough dressed for this kind of thing," he remarked.
"Where's that gray rabbits' fur, or whatever it is?"

"If you mean my chinchillas," I said, "they're in their box. Chinchillas
are as delicate as babies and not near so plentiful. I'm warm enough."

"You look it." He reached over and caught one of my hands. "Look at
that! Blue nails! It's about four degrees above zero here, and while
the