"Marcia," said the Doctor one morning, after he had been enjoying, apparently, every minute of his vacation-life in the open, "will you come with me over the north trail as far as Ewart and André have made it? I want to show you something I found there the other day." Before I could answer, Jamie spoke: "How about your _solitude à deux_ principle, Doctor?" "It is wise to forget sometimes, Boy. Will you come this morning, Marcia?" I promptly said I would. I saw that he was slightly ruffled at Jamie's innocent jest; indeed, ever since his arrival, the Doctor had not been wholly like his genial self. Mrs. Macleod noticed it and spoke of it to me. "We don't realize, when we see him enjoying everything with the zest of a boy, how much he has on his mind. He told me the other day he must cut his vacation short; he is called to the Pacific coast for some of his special work." I said nothing at the time, because I could not agree with her. I noticed that, at times, there was a slight constraint in his manner towards me--me who was willing for him to know all there was to know, except the fact that I loved his friend. I was convinced that he wanted to air his special knowledge of me with me alone; that after he had freed his mind to me, there would be no constraint. Twice I caught him looking at Mr. Ewart, as if he were diagnosing his case, and I laughed inwardly. From time to time I surprised the same expression on his face when he was silent, smoking and, at the same time, watching me weave my baskets under the tutelage of a Montagnaise, the squaw of our postman. Mr. Ewart heard me express the wish to learn this handicraft, and within a week my teacher was provided. She remained in camp five days. Perhaps this opened the Doctor's eyes. Perhaps Jamie had spoken with him about what was evident to all. The Doctor grew more and more silent, more thoughtful, less inclined to jest with me. Added to this was the thought that we must break camp sooner than Mr. Ewart had intended. The "homing sense" was making itself felt, for September was with us. We saw some land birds going over early, and the first frost was a heavy one. The Doctor and I followed the north trail for half a mile; then the Doctor bade me rest, for it was rough going. "Marcia," he said abruptly, sitting down in front of me, his back against a tree, his hands clasping his knees, "let's have it out." I saw he felt ill at ease and could but wonder, for, after all, it was only I with whom he had to deal. "I am ready. I 've only been waiting for you all these weeks." "Do you know that I have been to Delia Beaseley for certain information?" "Yes; she wrote me. I wrote her to tell you all she knew of me." He seemed to breathe more freely after my speaking so frankly, as if I really would welcome anything he might have to say.