"Norah, my dear, I'm sorry I spoke sharply to you--just when you were doing all that you possibly could for us. But, you know, I didn't mean it a bit unkind." "Oh, no, sir," said Norah, shyly. It's only that I'm always a stickler for etiquette--and that sort of thing. I do so like what I call seemly conduct." "Yes, sir. I was ashamed the moment you spoke;" and Norah blushed again. "But truly I hadn't thought, sir. If I'd given it a thought, I'd never have done it." "No, you didn't think. And there's nothing on earth for you to be ashamed of. Far be it from me to put thoughts into your innocent little noddle which needn't come there yet a while. You'll understand--and it'll just be instinct to you then--that what's right for children is a bit odd and startling for those who're older. Now don't think any more about it." "I don't want to, sir--if you say so;" and Norah smiled comfortably once more. She made and laid his early breakfast for him every morning until Mavis was well enough to come down to do it herself, and Dale had never been better waited on or seen a daintier way of arranging a table. She always gave him a napkin, which was an unusual luxury, and she folded it in fantastic shapes; moreover, undeterred by the notions of economy or caution natural in a proprietor, she brought out pieces of the bettermost china that were rarely used by Mavis; she set one of the smallest and very best afternoon tea-cloths in such a manner that it looked like a diamond instead of a square, and on this, as central decoration, she placed a blue bowl full of flowers. Then, too, she had requisitioned the silver-plated cake basket for the newly-baked bannocks. The silver basket gave a touch of splendor that really made the table seem as if its proper situation was a grand London restaurant or a nobleman's mansion. "You want to spoil me, Norah," said Dale, watching her. Then he laughed. "But, my dear, all these pretty trickings and ornamentations are fairly wasted on me." "No, they aren't," said Norah, breathing hard, seeming to purr with pleasure. "They can't be wasted, if you've noticed them, Mr. Dale;" and as she lifted her head, she shook back the dark curling hair from her forehead. "P'raps they'd be wasted if you didn't know they were there." "Oh, we rough old chaps don't require such prettiness about them." Norah displayed her small white teeth in a broadening smile; then she looked at the revered master thoughtfully. "Why do you say you're _old_? You aren't really old, Mr. Dale." "Oh, aren't I? I wonder what you call old, lassie." "I call father old, and Mr. Bates--and Mrs. Goudie." "Well, I mayn't be as old as them--as they; but I think I'm like the walnut tree out there. I still stand up straight, but I fear me I've seen my best days.... There! What are you up to now?" She was lugging and pushing the great porter's chair from its corner. "I don't want that."