s rather a lark, isn't it?"

His boyish eyes pleaded with her, and again she made a valiant effort to
respond. She knew what stupendous efforts he had been making to secure
her comfort.

"Everything is perfect," she declared, "and you're the nicest boy in the
world. I'm quite warm now. What a dear little hall, to be sure!"

"Hall!" said Jerry. "It's the living-room! But there's another one
upstairs that you can sit in. I thought you would like the upper regions
all to yourself. We can call on each other, you know, now and then. I
say, it's rather a lark, isn't it? Come and see my preparations for
dinner."

She went with him into the little bare kitchen, and bestowed lavish
praise upon everything she saw.

Jerry's cooking was an accomplishment of which he had some reason to be
proud. He was roasting a pheasant for his visitor's delectation.

"I always do the cooking when we camp out," he explained. "Just sit down
while I finish peeling the potatoes."

He pointed to a truckle bedstead in the corner; and Nan seated herself
and made a determined effort to banish her depression.

Jerry's preparations for his own comfort were anything but elaborate.

"Oh, I could sleep on bare boards," he lightly said, when she commented
upon the hardness of his couch. "I know the furniture isn't up to much,
but it isn't a bad little shanty when you're used to it. My pater and
mater spent their honeymoon here years ago, and I stayed here with two
other fellows for three weeks' grouse-shooting a couple of years back.
Rare sport we had, too. Do you mind passing over that saucepan? Thanks!
I say, Nan, I hope you don't mind it being a bit rough."

"My dear boy," Nan said impulsively, "if it were a palace I shouldn't
like it half so well."

Jerry grinned serenely.

"Yes, it's snug, anyhow, and I think you'll like that pheasant. There's
another one in the larder, so we shall have something to eat if we're
snowed up. That cupboard leads upstairs. Perhaps you would like to go and
explore. Dinner in half an hour."

Nan availed herself of this suggestion. She was frankly curious to know
what Jerry's ideas of feminine comfort might be. She ascended the steep
cottage stairs that wound up to the first floor, looking about her with
considerable interest. The narrow staircase was lighted from above, and
she finally emerged into a little room in which a fire burned brightly.
A sofa had been drawn in front of it, and was piled with cushions. Th