A fire was glowing on the andirons. New rugs gave colour and life to the floor. The mantel had been swept clear of annual reports and technical books, and graced with a friendly clock and a still more friendly pair of vases filled with flowers. The monumental swivel chair had disappeared, and in its place was one of wicker, upholstered in cretonne. On the desk was another vase of flowers, a writing set of charming design and a triple photograph frame, containing pictures of Miss Cordelia, Miss Patty and old Josiah himself. Mary was still marvelling when she caught sight of Burdon Woodward in the doorway. "Who--who did this?" she asked. He bowed low--as d'Artagnan might have bowed to the queen of France--but came up smiling. "Your humble, obedient servant," said he. "Can I come in?" It had been some time since Mary had seen him so closely, and as he approached she noticed the faultlessness of his dress, the lily of the valley in his buttonhole, and that slightly ironic but smiling manner which is generally attributed to men of the world, especially to those who have travelled far on adventurous and forbidden paths. In another age he might have worn lace cuffs and a sword, and have just returned from a gambling house where he had lost or won a fortune with equal nonchalance. "He still smells nice," thought Mary to herself, "and I think he's handsomer than ever--if it wasn't for that dark look around his eyes--and even that becomes him." She motioned to a chair and seated herself at the desk. "I thought you'd like to have a place down here to call your own," he said in his lazy voice. "I didn't make much of a hit with the governor, but then you know I seldom do--" "Where did you get the pictures?" "From the photographers'. Of course it required influence, but I am full of that--being connected, as you may know, with Spencer & Son. When I told him why I wanted them, he seemed to be as anxious as I was to find the old plates." "And the fire and the rugs and everything--you don't know how I appreciate it all. I had no idea--" "I like surprises, myself," he said. "I suppose that's why I like to surprise others. The keys of the desk are in the top drawer, and I have set aside the brightest boy in the office to answer your buzzer. If you want anybody or anything--to write a letter--to see the governor--or even to see your humble servant--all you have to do is to press this button." A wave of gratitude swept over her. "He's nice," she thought, as Burdon continued his agreeable drawl. "But Helen says he's wicked. I wonder if he is.... Imagine him thinking of the pictures: I'm sure that doesn't sound wicked, and... Oh, dear!....Yes, he did it again, then!... He--he's making eyes at me as much as he dares!..." She turned and opened a drawer of the desk. "I think I'll take the papers home and sort them there," she said. "You're sure there's nothing more I can do?" he asked, rising. "Nothing more; thank you."