"An' you tink you goin' pull dat toboggan all way back wid you h'arm all bad an' you seek, lookin' lak' one ghosts! Excuse me, Monsieur Hugo, but you one beeg fool. My man Papineau 'e come back from de traps to-morrow an' heem pull de young lady 'ome wid de dogs. You no fit to go. I tink you go to bed right now, bes' place for you, sure." She pulled him inside, holding on to his uninjured arm as if he had been under arrest. She was a masterful woman, to be sure. Madge had arisen from a chair and Mrs. Papineau addressed her. A glance at the man's countenance had left the girl appalled. His features were drawn, the brown tint of his face had changed to a characterless gray, his eyes looked sunken and brighter, as if some fever brought a flame into them. "Sure you no in h'awful beeg 'urry for to go 'ome, Mees?" asked the hostess. "Dis man heem real seek. Heem no fit for valk all vay back to Carcajou now. To-morrow my man take you. Papineau he no forgif me if I let Monsieur Hugo go aff an' heem so seek." "Why, of course! I'm not in any special hurry. To-morrow will do just as well. He--he mustn't think of going to-day and--and it doesn't matter in the least. It--it makes no difference at all." "Do you really think that you can manage to stay here for another day?" the young man asked her, as he dropped rather heavily on a bench by the table. "I don't think there 's really much the matter with me, really, and I'm sure I could manage it if you're anxious to get away. But perhaps to-morrow...." "Mrs. Papineau has been ever so kind to me," answered the girl, slowly. "That sort of thing is such a comfort, especially when--when one isn't used to it. Nobody ever took such care of me over there in New York. I've had plenty to eat and a nice warm place to sleep in. I haven't been used to much luxury where--where I came from. And--and you mustn't mind me. It will always be time enough to go, but--but I won't know how to thank this--this kindly woman." Hugo didn't know whether these words held a reproach to him, but they sounded very hopeless and sad. The girl had sat down again, on a low stool near the fire. A chimney had been built in a corner, to supplement the stove, and she was looking intently at the bright flames leaping up and the fat curling smoke that rose in little patches, as bits of white bark twisted and crackled. Mrs. Papineau had gone back to the stove at the other end of the room, where she and her eldest girl had been washing dishes. In the rising sparks of the logs on fire Madge saw queer designs, strange moving forms her eyes followed mechanically. She felt that she was merely waiting--waiting for the worst that was yet to come, but the heat was grateful. "If that's the case we might as well postpone the trip for a day," Hugo acknowledged, somewhat shamefacedly. "I don't often get played out but for some reason I'm not quite up to the mark to-day."