Mrs. Burton and Captain Burton were walking up and down outside Tahawus cabin the following morning. Wearing a sealskin coat and a small fur hat and muff, little was visible except Mrs. Burton’s eyes and the brilliant color in her cheeks wrought by the still, clear cold. Captain Burton, who was a good deal older, was a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair and dark eyes; a handsome, erect figure, considerably taller than his companion. “Why, no, I suppose not, Polly,” he returned, “but I explained to you the circumstances were exceptional. Here was a girl who had been living in the same boarding place with me, to whom I had been saying good-morning and good-evening for a number of weeks and now and then stopping to talk for a few moments, suddenly turned out into the world with no money and apparently no friends whom she could ask to aid her. I believe she has friends, but preferred being independent. Had I not assured her you were greatly in need of some one, she would not have come to you. She was careful to tell me that although she had studied nursing a short time, she was not a professional nurse, having given up her studies in order to take a position in Washington during the war, being in need of funds and unable to wait for her graduation. “I convinced her that you were not so ill as to require professional care, but required some one to wait upon you, prepare special dishes and write letters. In fact, I even told her that a part of her work would be that of a maid, but that I was sure you would be extremely kind and that living with you was a pleasure, Polly, under almost any conditions.” Mrs. Burton laughed. “That was very kind of you, dear, but scarcely true. I have an idea that Miss Temple will form a different impression of my character as an invalid if she overhears Aunt Patricia’s report of me. Besides, Richard, don’t you realize that Aunt Patricia will never permit Miss Temple to usurp her duties, which seem to consist in forcing me to eat more food and sleep a greater number of hours than any human being reasonably can manage. As for the other tasks, which I am perfectly well able to accomplish for myself, there are half a dozen of the Camp Fire girls more than willing to do whatever I ask. Then there is my beloved Betty Graham whom I have not seen intimately in a number of years. We have made a secret arrangement by which she pretends to be acting as my secretary in order that we may have a few quiet hours together. As I do not write a dozen letters a week and ordinarily write them myself, Betty does not find her duties arduous. Really I do not see what Miss Temple is to do for me or for any one else. I am sorry for her of course, but just at present the cabin is to be unusually crowded. If the girl has no money I suppose we must see that she is able to board somewhere for a time, although we haven’t a great deal of money ourselves these days, have we?