It was Haworth at work, and not in his shop, but some distance beyond it. She could see him by the light of the lamp he’d placed near. He had a lot of weather-beaten boards or planks that had apparently been dragged in through one of the basement windows. She couldn’t think where he’d got them, unless it was from the old barn at the rear of the house. Out of these he was building a partition, so far as the old woman could make out, and he was evidently in a fever of haste about it, knocking and clawing out old nails, sawing boards in lengths, and then nailing them to upright timbers or studding set in a way so they would wall off a small-sized room. Even Haworth’s furious activity which she now beheld, seemed better to her than having him sit rigid, staring at nothing, with some hidden anguish eating his heart out; and she thought best not to disturb him. So, after watching him a few moments she turned away and went back up the stairs, and as soon as she’d got herself quieted a little, lay down again on the old lounge. But not to sleep. She didn’t expect that. How could she while hearing this dearly beloved young man in his frenzied fit of work, to which he was driven by some desperation the cause of which she could not guess? It was still going on when the morning sunlight struck in through one of the windows, and did not cease until she went down to him with coffee and toast on a tray. He stopped when she spoke, and stood an instant looking at her. Then he thanked her, but really he didn’t want anything. This behavior she considered much nearer to what was normal with him than the way he’d acted at supper the night before—eating everything without a word. Indeed, Mrs. Temple was so much encouraged by his refusal to take anything, that she went further and insisted. He must take it now while it was hot, and she set the tray on the plank he was just then sawing. On this the young fellow came to terms and drank the coffee and ate the toast—very hurriedly to be sure, and with eyes roving about the structure he was engaged upon; but he “got it down,” as Mrs. Temple said to herself, “and that’s the main thing!” In three or four minutes he was working again, and with the same feverish haste—the same madness to have it finished.