"I 'd like to leave the settling of my den in your hands--wholly," he said emphatically. "You have been so successful with the other rooms that I 'd like to see your hand in my special one. How did you know just what to do, and not overdo,--so many women are guilty of that,--tell me?" He spoke eagerly, almost boyishly. It was pleasant to be able to tell him the plain truth; no frills were needed with this man, if I read him rightly. "Because it was my first chance to work out some of my home ideals--my first opportunity to make a home, as I had imagined it; then, too,--" I hesitated, wondering if I should tell not only the plain truth, but the unvarnished one. I decided to speak out frankly; it could do no harm. "I enjoyed it all so much because I could spend some money--judiciously, you know,"--I spoke earnestly. He nodded understandingly, but I saw that he suppressed a smile,--"without having to earn it by hard work; I 've had to scrimp so long--" His face grew grave again. "How much did you spend? I think I have a slight remembrance of some infinitesimal sum you mentioned the first evening--" "Infinitesimal! No, indeed; it was almost a hundred--eighty-seven dollars and sixty-three cents, to be exact." "Now, Miss Farrell!" It was his turn to protest. He went over to the hearth and took his stand on it, his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him. "Do you mean to tell me that you provided all this comfort and made this homey atmosphere with eighty-seven dollars and sixty-three cents?--I'm particular about those sixty-three cents." "I did, and had more good fun and enjoyment in spending them to that end, than I ever remember to have had before in my life. You don't think it too much?" I looked up at him and smiled; and smiled again right merrily at the perplexed look in his eyes, a look that suddenly changed to one of such deep, emotional suffering that my eyes fell before it. I felt intuitively I ought not to see it. "Too much!" he repeated, and as I looked up again quickly I found the face and expression serene and unmoved. "Well, as you must have learned already, things are relative when it comes to value, and what you have done for this house belongs in the category of things that mere money can neither purchase nor pay for." "I don't quite see that; I thought it was I who was having all the pleasure." His next question startled me. "You are an orphan, I understand, Miss Farrell?" "Yes." Again I felt the blood mount to my cheeks as I restated this half truth. "Then you must know what it is to be alone in the world?" "Yes--all alone." "Perhaps to have no home of your own?" "Yes." "To feel yourself a stranger even in familiar places?" "Oh, yes--many times." "Surely, then, you will understand what it means for a lonely man to come back to this old manor, which I have occupied for years only at intervals, and more as a camping than an abiding place, and find it for the first time a home in fact?"