Raven stared at her a full minute, realizing to the full the exact measure of his lie coming back to him. "Tira," said he, "I believe you're not quite bright." "No," said she simply, with no apparent feeling, "I guess I ain't. 'Most everybody's told me so, first or last." It sobered him. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I didn't mean that. I'm off my head a little. I'm so worried, you see. I want to know you're safe. You're not safe. It isn't easy to accept that--to lie down under it." Usually he had spoken to her in the homespun phrasing he instinctively used with his country neighbors, but the last words were subtly different to her, they were more distant, and she accepted them with a grave humility. "Yes, sir," she said, and Raven awoke to the irritating knowledge that she was calling him "sir." He smiled at her and she realized that, as mysteriously as she had been pushed away, now she was taken back. "So," he said, "you won't go down to Nan's and spend the night?" She shook her head, watching him. Little as she meant to do what he told her, she wanted less to offend him. "Then," said Raven, "you'll stay here. I'll bring in some more blankets, and you lie on the couch. You'll have to keep an eye on the fire. Don't let it go down entirely. It can get pretty cold." He got up, lighted a candle and went into the bedroom for the blankets. Tira followed him and silently took the pair he gave her, came back to the couch and spread them carefully, not to waken the child. He followed with more and, while she finished arranging her couch, piled wood on the fire. For a moment he had an idea of announcing that he would stay and keep the fire up while she slept. But even if she submitted to that, she would be uneasy. And she was a hardy woman. It would not hurt her to come awake, as he knew she could, with the house-guarding instinct of the woman trained to serve. "There," he said, beating the wood-dust from his hands, "now lock me out. Remember, you're not to go back there to-night. You owe that to me. You've given me bother enough." But his eyes, when hers sought them timidly, were smiling at her. She laughed a little, happily. It was all right, then. "You ain't mad," she said, half in shy assertion, following him to the door. "No," he said gravely. "I'm not mad. I couldn't be, with you. I never shall be. Good night."