It was a crisp January morning. The snow had come and the train rattled through a flat, white country, cut into strips as far as one could see by the straight up and down lines of the black pine stumps. At Liddington Hunch went up to the white brick hotel on the main street and ate his dinner alone. He walked up and down for an hour after dinner, trying to think clearly about Mamie and Bruce. Now, that he was on the ground, he was not sure why he had come. But it drew near three o'clock, and he walked out to Bruce's cottage. At first there was no answer to his knock. The curtains were down, and the snow had not been cleared away from the steps. He knocked again and rattled the knob. He heard some one moving. A little later an inside door opened, and then, after some fumbling with the lock, Mamie opened the door. She was pale and thin. A shawl was drawn over her head and shoulders. “Oh!” she said, then smiled. “How do you do, Mister Badeau?” Hunch stepped in and closed the door. “What's the matter?” he said. “You ain't sick?” “No, just a little under the weather. Come in and sit down.” The front room was cold. “Ain't you got no fire?” Hunch asked. “Yes, I made a little fire in the kitchen this morning. I can sit out there, you know. I don't need any in here. Guess we'd better go out there anyhow, where it's warmer.” “You go ahead,” said Hunch; then, “Where's your wood? I'll make a fire here.” “Oh, no, you mustn't?” “Now you just leave me be, Mis' Considine. You set down in the kitchen and lemme fix you up. Where's the wood?” “It's out here in the box,” said Mamie, opening the kitchen door. Hunch saw why she was sparing of wood. There were only a few armfuls. But he built a roaring fire in the front room, and then took the ax out into the back yard and split up a heap of boards and timber waste that lay under the snow. Mamie watched him through the window. After a few strokes he grew warm from the exercise, and taking off his coat he handed it through the door to Mamie, and said, “Warm weather, ain't it?” Mamie was smiling when she reappeared at the window. Hunch filled the wood box and laid a large pile on the floor at each end. Then he put on his coat. “Well,” he said, “that's more like. Pull up a chair, Mis' Considine.” “You must be hungry, Mr. Badeau, after all that work. I'm going to make you some coffee, anyway.” “Now, don't you do nothing of the sort. That ain't work? That's just fun.” Unconsciously he expanded his chest as he spoke. In spite of his bent shoulders, it was a deep, rounded chest, different from Bruce's. Mamie did not know that there was admiration in her eyes as she watched him.