"Heaven knows! I rather insisted, to be sure, but I don’t know why. I wonder if any one could give me a bed for the night? Do you know?" "Perhaps Mam’selle Morey could. All her life she’s been getting ready for a boarder." Norval started. "Mam’selle Morey?" he said slowly; "and you——?" "I’m Donelle Morey. I have Molly and the cart here. We can try, if you care to." So Norval put his bags in the cart and stretched out his hand to help the girl. "Thanks," she said; "I will ride beside Molly on the shaft." "But—why, that’s absurd, you know. The seat is wide enough for us both." "I prefer the shaft." The air, manner, and voice of the girl were proofs enough of Alice Lindsay’s work, but Norval was determined to keep his own identity, for the time being, secret. "I’m Richard Alton," he said, as the little creaking cart mounted the Right of Way. "Good evening, Mr. Richard Alton," came the reply from the shaft. It was improbable that the slip of a girl sitting there was laughing at him, but the man on the seat had his doubts. "I’m a painter," he added. "A painter? Do you paint houses?" "Oh! yes, and barns and even people and trees." This seemed to interest the voice in the gloom, for they had entered the woods and it was quite dark. "You are making fun?" "Far from it, Mam’selle." "I am not Mam’selle. I’m Donelle." How childish the words and tones were! "Excuse me, Donelle." "And here’s home!" Suddenly Molly had emerged from the trees and stood stock still in the highway in front of the little white house. "Would you rather wait until I let Molly into the stable, or will you go in?" Standing in the road, with the moonlight touching her, Donelle looked like nothing so much as a silver birch in the shadowy woods. "I’d much rather wait. I’m horribly afraid." "Afraid of what?" "That Mam’selle Morey may not approve of me as a boarder." "Then she will say so," comforted the girl, turning to open the gate across the road for the horse. "Molly," she said, "you trot along and make yourself easy, I’ll be back in a few minutes." Then she turned to Norval. "We’d better go right in. If you are not to stay here you’ll have to try Captain Longville’s and that is a good three miles." "Good Lord!" muttered Norval, and began to straighten his tie and hat in a desperate attempt at respectability. As long as he lived Norval was to remember his first glimpse of Jo Morey and the strangely home-like room that greeted him. Perhaps because his need was great the scene touched his heart. The brilliant stove was doing its best. The hanging lamp was like electricity for clearness. The brightness, comfort, and Jo at her loom made a picture upon which the tired, heartsore man looked reverently. Jo lifted her glad face to welcome Donelle and saw the stranger! Instantly the protecting brows fell, but not until Norval had seen the worship that filled the eyes. "Mamsey!" Donelle went quickly forward and half whispered.