“I don’t see what you are going to do with your maid,” said he, “unless she sleeps on the couch out here in the sitting room.” “I shan’t have a maid,” Moira replied, and he looked at her with another of his glances of wondering curiosity. “But,” he began, and then stopped, thinking better of what he had intended to say. “Well, there’s my Nana. She often has time lying heavy on her hands and she doesn’t object to an occasional extra fee. No doubt she can help you.” “Oh, that will be splendid,” she cried. The suggestion did solve a minor problem in her mind, but she had no patience just now with minor problems. “I love the old furniture you have in here.” “Most of it was here when I came, in the house up above. I made one room out of three when I built the studio, and these are the handful of pieces I could not use. If you haven’t enough, there are a few more odds and ends stored away.” “You’re going to let me take it, then?” asked Moira breathlessly. He seemed surprised at the question, as though the matter had been settled between them, and then laughed. “I’ll tell you the truth now, Mrs. Harlindew. There have been several other applicants but I put them off somehow--I didn’t like any of them.... But!” he exclaimed suddenly--“but my dear girl! Well, well!” She was crying after all, as she had feared she would in the orchard, ten minutes before. Tears that she could not keep back rolled down her smiling cheeks.... XXIII Moira’s hope had been that their move to the country would bring Miles to his senses. With nothing to do but rest and lose himself in the beauty and peace of outdoors, with not even the responsibility, for some months at least, to earn any money, she confidently believed he would drop the habits which had regained their hold upon him of late, get possession of his impulse to work, and begin to write the things of which she dreamed he was capable. And in the beginning each day after they arrived confirmed her hope. He seemed to cast heavy burdens from his shoulders and his mind, to love spending hours with the children, romping and making the place merry with their laughter and his. From time to time he wandered off alone with his pockets stuffed with paper, boyishly promising great results, or stayed up with the lamp at night. When they had been there no more than ten days it seemed already a long time ago that their lives had changed and taken a turn for the better. She was for that ten days serenely happy. Then the country began to pall on Miles. He grew restless and evasive; at breakfast he would hint at various reasons for going to New York. When their second week end came around he managed a convincing excuse and disappeared with a small handbag full of over-night clothing.