nto the
blankets, and knew nothing of the world till nine next morning.

"I can't knock on a tent-flap," said Francis's buoyant voice outside
then. "But it's time we were on our way, Marjorie. There ought to be
a bathrobe in that bundle of Lucille's. Slip it on and I'll show you
the brook."

She reached for a mirror, which showed that, though tousled, she was
pretty, took one of the long breaths that seemed so frequently
necessary in dealing with Francis, said "in for a penny, in for a
pound," and did as she was directed. The bath-robe wasn't a bath-robe,
but something rather more civilized, which had been, as a matter of
fact, part of her trousseau, in that far-off day when trousseaux were
so frequently done, and seemed such fun to buy. She came out of the
tent rather timidly. "Good gracious, child, that wasn't what I meant!"
exclaimed Francis, seeming appallingly dressed and neat and ready for
life. "It's too cold for that sort of thing. Here!"

He picked up one of the blankets, wrapped it around her, gave her a
steer in a direction away from the road, and vanished.

She went down the path he had pushed her toward, holding the towels
tight in one hand and her blanket around her in the other. It was
fresh that morning, though it was warm for May. And Francis seemed to
think that she was going to take a bath in the brook, which even he
could not have had heated. She shivered at the idea as she came upon
it.

It was an alluring brook, in spite of its unheated state. It was very
clear and brown, with a pebbled bottom that you could see into, and a
sort of natural round pool, where the current was partly dammed, making
it waist-deep. She resolved at first to wash just her face and hands;
then she tried an experimental foot, and finished by making a bold
plunge straight into the ice-cold middle of it. She shrieked when she
was in, and came very straight out, but by the time she was dry she was
warmer than ever. She ran back to the tent, laughing in sheer
exuberance of spirits, and dressed swiftly. The plunge had stimulated
her so that when Francis appeared again she ran toward him, feeling as
friendly as if he weren't married to her at all.

"It was--awfully cold--but I'm just as hungry as I can be!" she called.
"Was there anything to eat in the car, along with the towels?"

Francis seemed unaccountably relieved by her pleasantness. This had
been something of a strain on him, after all, though it wa