I found the barrel which contained breakables in the shed, unpacked it, and brought in the contents--a few vases, my college tea set, a little Tanagra dancing-girl. I placed the dancing figure on top of the shelf between the settles, and Miss Goodwin set the tea things on my one table by the south door. Then she got an umbrella and vanished. A few minutes later she returned with two clumps of sweet flag blades from the brookside, placed one in each of the small vases, and stood them on the twin mantels, beneath the Japanese prints. "There!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Now what do you think of your room?" I looked at the young green spears, at the bookcases with their patterns of colour, at the warm rugs on the floor, at my desk ready for me by the window, at the student lamp upon it, at the crimson cushions on the twin settles, at the leaping flames on the hearths, and then at the bright, flushed, eager face of the girl, raindrops glistening in her hair. [Illustration: She was sitting with a closed book on her knee, gazing into the fire] "I think it is wonderful," said I. "I have my home at last! And how you have helped me!" "Yes, you have your home," said she. "Oh, it is such a nice one!" She turned away, and went over to the east fire, poking it with her toe. I lit my pipe, sat down at my old, familiar desk, heaved a great sigh of comfort, and opened a manuscript. "It's only four o'clock," said I. "I can get in that hour I wasted in sleep this morning. Can you find something to read?" "I ought to," she smiled. I plunged into the manuscript--a silly novel. I heard Miss Goodwin on the other side of the settle, taking down a book. I read on. The room was very still. Presently the stillness roused me from my work, and I looked up. I could not see the girl, so I rose from my chair and tiptoed around the settle. She was sitting with a closed book on her knee, gazing into the fire. I sat down, too, and touched her arm. "What is there?" I asked, pointing to the flames. She looked around, with a half-wistful little smile. "You are not making up that lost hour," she answered. "But the room was so still," said I, "that I wondered where you were." "Perhaps I was many miles away," she replied. "Do you want me to make a noise?" "You might sing for me." "I should hate to make the thrush jealous. No, my accomplishments cease with philology. I'm very happy here, really. You must go back to your work." I went back, and read a few more pages of the silly novel. "This story is so silly I really think it would be a success," I called out. A head peeped up at me over the settle. "You aren't working," she reproached. "I'm going away, so you won't have me to talk to." "Very well, I'll go with you," I cried, slamming the manuscript into a drawer. "I'll come down here and work after supper." "No, you'll work till five o'clock." "Not unless you'll stay!"