"I say, that's a jolly cool way you have at times, Marcia!" Jamie exploded in his usual fashion when he is ruffled. "But you 'll get used to it, Doctor--I have." "A martyr, eh, Boy?" The Doctor looked amused. "Well, rather--at times." "Don't mind Jamie's martyrdoms, Doctor Rugvie; tell me when you want me to be ready." "In half an hour. I don't want to start too late; be sure to take enough wraps." I left them to go upstairs, wondering on the way what wraps I should take--I, who possessed only sufficient clothing to help out a New York winter, but no furs, no fur coat, no warm moccasins, no mittens, only an unlined gray tweed ulster that with a grey sweater had done duty for four years. "I want my pay more than I want a pung ride," I growled, as I was trying to make the one thick veil I owned do double duty for head and ears protector. I folded a square of newspaper and laid it over my chest under my sweater; I put on two pairs of stockings. Thus fortified against the Canadian cold, I went downstairs promptly on time. Mr. Ewart came out into the passageway; the Doctor was talking with Mrs. Macleod in the living-room. "Why, Miss Farrell," he exclaimed, "I see you don't realize our climate; you can't go without more wraps--" He hesitated, grew visibly embarrassed. I knew by his manner he had unwittingly probed my poverty to the quick, and I crimsoned with shame; yes, I was ashamed that my lack should thus be made known to him--ashamed as when Delia Beaseley's keen eyes read my need of money. "Oh, I don't need to bundle up--I have been accustomed to go without such heavy clothing," I said, with ready lie to cover my confusion. The Doctor came out and took his fur-lined coat from a wooden peg under the staircase. Mr. Ewart turned abruptly and reached for something on an adjoining peg; it was a fur coat of Canadian fox, soft and fine and warm. "You are to wear this, otherwise the Doctor won't let you go," he said quickly, decidedly, shaking it down and holding it ready for me to slip in my arms. For a second, a second only, I hesitated, searching for some excuse to give up the drive and so avoid acceptance of this favor; then I slipped into it, much to Jamie's delight who, appearing at the living-room door, cried out: "My, Marcia, but you 're smart in Ewart's togs! We 'll have some of our own if this is the kind of weather they treat us to in Canada. I 've been hugging the fire all the morning." He saved the situation for me and I was grateful to him; but Mr. Ewart looked at him, almost anxiously, saying: "I should have been getting the heater put up this forenoon, instead of rushing off the first thing this morning. A poor host thus far, Jamie, but I 'll make good hereafter." The Doctor looked me over carefully. "You 're safeguarded with that; the sleeves are so long and ample they are as good as a modern muff--go back, Boy,"--he spoke brusquely, as he opened the outer door,--"this is no place for you."