Clinton might and did mollify Jim at least into a state of neutrality, and he could, and unfortunately did, rather ignore the doctor: but he could neither ignore nor mollify Mrs. Higgins. She was impervious to flattery. She was the one thorn in his side; all the rest were like the odor of roses. There was nothing said now about his leaving the farm, though Norine used to wonder a little at his protracted stay. So the days went on, and he increased in health and strength with every one. Doctor Conway came very seldom now; not so often by any means as he had been in the habit of coming before Clinton’s arrival. He looked a trifle paler, too, Norine thought, and passed his hand slowly over his head, in that thoughtful way of his, very often. He was none the less friendly to Norine and Jim, and his smile was as bright as ever--when it came; but it was not as frequent as it had been. I am afraid Clinton and Norine rather monopolized the happiness of the little party. The doctor certainly did not seem to have much of it, unless it was in the contemplation of Norine’s happiness. She was very happy in those sweet summer days--so happy that she would sometimes stop and wonder how long it would all last. Clinton was well enough now to be outdoors the greater part of the day, and they devoted part of every afternoon to a ramble in the woods opposite the little cottage. These rambles gradually became more extended as Clinton regained his strength, and the companionship became greatly cemented thereby. It was the very essence of life, Clinton thought. Day after day they would stroll through the woods together, or in the shade of some big oak Norine would sit and stitch industriously, while Clinton would lie at her feet, content to simply look at her. “Norine,” he said one day. “I am getting so strong now that I think I must get you to show me the cabin where you first found me.” “Do you care to go?” she asked. “Yes; I am impatient to go; I wish to see it; and if I could I would trace myself back, step by step, over all my wanderings of that night.” Norine turned pale, and her lips quivered a little, but she said nothing. “Well,” he said softly, after waiting a moment, “will you go with me?” “Oh, yes,” she answered, starting a little; “I will go if you wish it; but I can not understand why you care to see the place?” “Perhaps I have some regard for the place where we first met.” “You were not conscious of the meeting, sir,” said Norine, smiling archly; “and there was very little in it to flatter your vanity.” “No, I suppose not,” laughed Clinton. “But then I was not trying to look my best; for, you see, I had no idea of receiving company. I should like to know what you thought of me at first sight.” “You would not find it very flattering, I am afraid.” “No,” he responded coolly, “I suppose not; but you have changed your opinion since then.”