The horses were turned homewards, and I felt that little time was left me to ask any intimate questions of the Doctor concerning myself. I could not find the right word--and I knew I was not trying with any degree of earnestness. "I 'll put it off till the last of the week," I said to myself; then I began to speak of that self, for I knew the Doctor was waiting for this and, wisely, was biding my time. I was grateful to him. I told him of my hard-worked young years and my longing to get away to independence. I entered into no family details; it was not necessary. I told him something of my struggle in New York and of my place in the Branch Library; of my long illness and how it had left me: tired out, listless, practically homeless and in need of immediate money. I told him how I sought Delia Beaseley on the strength of the advertisement; how she helped me; how I felt I had found release from the city and its burden of livelihood, and how happy I was with my new duties in the old manor house; how the fact that it was an old manor fed the vein of romance in me which neither hard work nor illness had been able to work out; how I enjoyed Jamie and Mrs. Macleod, Angélique, and Pierre and all the household--and how I had dreaded his coming, yet longed for it, because it would unsettle my future which was not to be in the manor house of Lamoral. I told him all this, freely; but to speak of my mother, of my birth, of the papers, and of what I wanted them for, was beyond me. The secret of the Past, projected on the possible Future, loomed gigantic, threatening. I would let well enough alone. "You poor child," he said, when I finished. That was all; but I knew that henceforth I should have a friend in Doctor Rugvie. He drove the rest of the way in silence. XII When I joined them an hour after supper, they were talking about the heater that had been put up in the living-room while we were away. The warmth from it was delightful, but the blazing fire in the fireplace gave the true cheer to the room, added charm for the eye. The Doctor looked up as I came in. "Have you ever seen a stove like this--Marcia?" There was a twinkle both in his voice and his eye, as he called me for the first time by my Christian name. He was tease enough to try it in the presence of the rest of the household. "Oh, yes, my grandfather had two in his farmhouse. There is nothing like them for an even heat; it never burns the face. The top is a lovely place to fry griddlecakes." "You seem to know this species root and branch, Miss Farrell," said Mr. Ewart. "After that remark may I challenge you to make a few for us some night for supper?" "You won't have to challenge, for I like them myself; and if you 'll trust me we 'll have a griddlecake party here in this room some evening." "My first innings, Marcia!" cried Jamie.