“Yes yes, I know,” he said softly, his hand touching her shoulder in sympathy for an instant. “It’s a tough thing for you, losing everything like that, but it’s simply wonderful for me! Yes, it is,” (seeing her look of amazement) “for it gives me the chance to do something that I—that I like doing so very much indeed!” “I’m afraid I don’t exactly——What is it?” “Why—why nothing at all, only to get you a few little things you’ll need. Hulda can do it; we’ll leave it all to her.... And then you’ll be wearing something that I——” He stopped, seeing that Edith had turned away and was fumbling with the door knob. “But Mrs. Findlay,” he said, quickly, “I didn’t mean to—won’t you please——” But she was shaking her head as she finally got the door open, and he heard an indistinct, “No——I can’t!” as she fled blindly through it into her room, closing it quickly after her. Haworth stood motionless before the door—which had almost been shut in his face, and a great fear nearly stopped his heart from beating—the fear that she was angry with him. After standing some time quite unable to figure it out, he suddenly thought of Hulda, and hurrying down to the room on the left, rang the bell; after which he waited in a state of near-panic till she came. “Hulda,” he said the instant she appeared, “I’ve offended Mrs. Findlay seriously! Yes, I’m afraid I have! Do you know anything that could be done?” “What makes you think it, sir? Did she say anything?” “No—not exactly; but while I was talking to her she turned and ran into her room and shut the door.” “What were you saying to ’er, Mr. Haworth? That might be it.” “It couldn’t be! I was only telling her that I was going to have you get her some things to—to wear you know—because all their trunks are lost, you see.” “I don’t think she’s angry.” Hulda had a smile concealed somewhere. “It’s most likely just feelings, sir.” “Feelings?” “Yes sir—about you being that kind to ’er, I’d say.” “Are you quite sure that was all?” “Indeed I am, sir, but when she’s had a little time I’ll go up and see to the room—they got up so late it isn’t done yet—an’ then I’ll hear what she says.” “Yes, do that! And if it _is_ so—as you think—and there’s no trouble of any kind, I want you to go to town with her as soon as you can and help about getting the things.” “Yes sir. An’ what was you thinking of getting?” “Oh yes. Well you’d know that, wouldn’t you? Things to wear, of course—dresses and—and—and so on. She must have things to use, too—brushes and combs and shaving soap—no, other soap, I mean—and hair things—you know, to hold it up and all that. Get whatever there is, Hulda; she hasn’t anything at all. That makes it quite simple, doesn’t it?” “Yes sir; she wants to be fitted out.”