Mrs. Bunker shortly led the way to the dining room, where a shaded red drop-light threw a rosy glow on the well-equipped table, upon which reposed a centrepiece of wild ferns. The easy, natural manner of the hostesses soon made their guests feel perfectly at home. "Don’t hesitate to smoke, gentlemen!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, after dinner. "This is Liberty Hall." "We didn’t expect this, Mrs. Bunker," said Lord Stafford, as they walked through the rooms, "when you invited us to ’rough it’ with you in the woods." "I assure you, Lord Stafford, that we consider this camping out," laughed Mrs. Bunker. "Now which chair are you going to take? This one is comfortable. Place it near the fire." "Very artistic and most original," said Lord Canning, surveying his surroundings. "I have never seen anything like it." There was a note of simplicity in all this luxury, even to the dress of the ladies, which struck him agreeably. Indiana sat in the midst of the group, talking and laughing unreservedly. Lord Canning, leaning back in a large armchair smoking his cigar, listened attentively, trying to find some clue to her character in the careless words. He finally realized this was foolish. She was evidently little more than a child, with no deep realization of life, as yet; a child with her own charm. There was no doubt of that. He gazed deeper and deeper into the fire. "Lord Canning, you are so absorbed in the fire the rest of us might be jealous," said Indiana. "There is no occasion for jealousy," he answered, looking directly at her. "But the fire is certainly fascinating—and productive of thought. I have a recollection of another, outside, which welcomed us very cheerfully, when we arrived. Is it still burning?" "Oh yes," said Indiana, "our camp fire is still burning." "I should like to see it, may I?" "Certainly," said Indiana rising, "Lord Stafford, are you also curious?" "Oh Miss Stillwater, I’m so comfortable, don’t ask me to go out again! this is such a charming fire. Now Mrs. Bunker, let me poke it. This is the way we do it in England." "Run along, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, sweetly. Without, the night was still black, but the storm had not yet broken. The fire down on the shore lit up the lake and the boat-house. Haller and William were throwing on logs, and in the red glare Kitty could be seen standing, talking volubly to Flash, who listened with deferential interest. "The boat-house looks very pretty in this light," said Lord Canning. "There’s such a cozy room in it with a fire," asserted Indiana. "We’ve had rare, old times there. We go down nights, and make things in chafing dishes." "What a novel idea! And is there a fire burning there now?" "Oh, yes! The guides keep the fires always going—when it’s cold." "I should like to see this cozy room, where you make things in chafing dishes. May I?"