This was true. Gregory Dexter's remarkable business powers and energy, together with his wealth, force, and lavish liberality, made him the strong arm of his State throughout the entire war. He asked for no comment upon his story; he had told it briefly as a series of facts. But from it he hoped that the listener would draw a feeling which would make her rest content under his friendly aid. And he succeeded. But before he went away she told him that while accepting all the house contained, she would rather return those of his gifts which had been personal to herself. "Why?" "I would rather do it, but I do not know how to explain the feeling," she answered, frankly, although her face was one bright blush. "If you do not, I do," said Dexter, smiling, and looking at her with the beginnings of a new interest in his eyes. "As you please, of course, although I _did_ try to buy a good shawl for you, Anne. Are you not very poorly dressed?" "Plainly and inexpensively. Quite warmly, however." "But what am I to do with the things? I will tell you what I shall do: I shall keep them just as they are, in the cedar box. Perhaps some day you will accept them." She shook her head. But he only smiled back in answer, and soon afterward he went away. The next day she sent the cedar case to his city address. She wrote a note to accompany it, and then destroyed it. Why should she write? All had been said. Before the month was quite ended, Herr Scheffel succeeded in obtaining for her a place in another church choir. It was a small church, and the salary was not large, but she was glad to accept it, and more than glad to be able to write to Mr. Dexter that she had accepted it. New pupils came with the new year; she was again able to send money to Miss Lois, for the household supplies, so lavishly provided, were sufficient for the little family throughout the winter. In February, being again in New York, Dexter came out to see her. It was a wild evening; the wind whistled round the house, and blew the hail and sleet against the panes. Most persons would have remained in the city; but after one look at Dexter's face and figure, no one ever spoke to him about the weather. Anne had received a long letter from Jeanne-Armande; she showed it to him. Also one from Père Michaux. "I feel now," she said, "almost as though you were my--" "Please do not say father." "Oh no." "Brother, then?" "Hardly that." "Uncle?" "Perhaps; I never had an uncle. But, after all, it is more like--" Here she stopped again. "Guardian?" suggested Dexter; "they are always remarkable persons, at least in books. Never mind the name, Anne; I am content to be simply your friend."