"Here endeth the first chapter," I said to Cale. "We 'll try to get all the books on the shelves to-morrow; then we can have one day of rest before they come." "You kinder speak as if two extra men in the fam'ly would make some difference," said Cale, smiling down at me from his place by the mantel. "It will make a difference I shall not like, Cale. There 'll be no more cosy evening-ends with porridge, after the lord of the manor comes." "What's that you say?" Jamie was roused at last. I thought I could do it. "Nothing in particular; only Cale and I were saying how different it would be when Mr. Ewart comes." "You bet it will!" said Jamie emphatically. "You won't know this house,"--he took up his porridge,--"and Ewart won't know it either since you 've had your hand on it, Marcia." This I perceived to be a sop. "Thet's so," said Cale, with emphasis. "I never see what a difference all thet calico an' fixin's has made; an' my room looks as warm with them red blankets and foot-rugs! It beats me how a woman can take an old house like this, an' make it look as if it had been lived in always. I thank _you_," he said, looking hard at me, "fer all the comfort you 've worked inter my room." "You have n't thanked me the way I want to be thanked, Cale," I said, smiling up at him. "I done the best I could," he replied with such a crestfallen air that we laughed. "The only way you can thank me is to call me 'Marcia'. I 've wanted to ask you to, ever since our first drive together up from the steamboat landing." "Sho!--Have you?" He looked at me intently for a minute; then he spoke slowly and we all knew with deep feeling: "You 're name 's all right; but you've made such a lot of happiness in this house since you come, I 'd like ter have my own name fer you--" "What's that?" I said. "I 'd like ter call you 'Happy', if you don't mind." I know I turned white, but I controlled myself. Was it possible he knew! It could not be. I dared not assume that he knew and refuse him. I made an effort to answer in my usual voice: "Of course I don't, Cale--only, I hardly deserve it; all I 've done is just in 'the day's work', you know." "Not all," he said, putting down his emptied bowl and turning to the door; "no wages thet I ever heard of will buy good-will an' the happiness you 've put inter all this work." "Oh, Cale, I don't deserve this--" But he was gone without the usual good night to any of us. "You do too," said Jamie shortly, and, reaching for his pipe, went off into the dining-room. Mrs. Macleod laid her hand on my shoulder. "They mean it, Marcia; good night, my dear." For the first time she leaned over and kissed me. I ran up to my room without any good night on my part. I needed to be alone after what Cale had said. Did he know? _Could_ he know? Or was it merely chance that he chose that name? Over and over again I asked myself these questions--and could find no answer.