"Did they dare to say so?" said Marjorie angrily. "No--oh, no. Don't mind me, Marjorie. I'm a little tired and nervous, I expect--like Logan," he ended, trying to smile. "Will you come?" "Why, of course!" said Marjorie instantly. "And I think it's _sweet_ of them to want me! Tell them just to wait till I take my apron off, and I'll be with them." He went back and she followed him and sat down. At first she felt embarrassed, a little--she felt as if she were entertaining a large dinner-party, and most of them strangers. But Pennington, her unfailing comfort, was at one side of her, and the friendly, if inarticulate, Ba'tiste at the other; and presently she was chattering on, and liking it very much. None of the men had seen much of women for a long time. A couple of the better-class ones went into town, or what passed for it, occasionally, to such dances as the few women near by could get up. But that was practically all they saw of girls. And this "little thing"--it was a phrase they always used in speaking of her, till the very last--with her pretty face and pretty, shy ways, and excellent cooking--and more than all, her pluck--won them completely. And when she finally, with obvious delight in their delight, produced the pudding, everything was over but the shouting, as they told her husband afterward. She had been a bit apprehensive about it, but it proved to be a good pudding, and large enough. Just large enough, though. They finished it to the very last crumb, sauce and all, and thanked her almost with tears. Pierre, it appeared, had not cooked with any art, he had merely seen to it that there was enough stoking material three times a day. From the moment of that meal on, anything that Marjorie wanted of those men, to the half of their weekly wages, was hers for the asking. She liked it very much. Everybody likes to be admired and appreciated. She could not help casting a glance of triumph over at Francis, where he sat maritally at the other end of the table, the most silent person present. Pennington helped her clear away after supper. Indeed, competition to help Marjorie clear away was so strong that Pennington had to use his authority before the men settled down to their usual routine of card-playing or lounging about on the grass outside. She accepted his help gratefully, for she was beginning to feel as if she had always known him. She did not think of him in the least as a man. He seemed more like an earthly providence. "You know, I really am very strong," she explained to him as he said something that betrayed his feeling that this work would be too much for her. "I think I shall be able to do all this. Really, it isn't anything more than lots of women have to do who keep boarders. And it isn't for----"