“You're too late, Ivory! You showed me your heart first, and now you are searching your mind for bugbears to frighten me.” “I am a poor man.” “No girl could be poorer than I am.” “After what you've endured, you ought to have rest and comfort.” “I shall have both--in you!” This with eyes, all wet, lifted to Ivory's. “My mother is a great burden--a very dear and precious, but a grievous one.” “She needs a daughter. It is in such things that I shall be your helpmate.” “Will not the boy trouble you and add to your cares?” “Rod? I love him; he shall be my little brother.” “What if my father were not really dead?--I think of this sometimes in the night!--What if he should wander back, broken in spirit, feeble in body, empty in purse?” “I do not come to you free of burdens. If my father is deserted by all, I must see that he is made comfortable. He never treated me like a daughter, but I acknowledge his claim.” “Mine is such a gloomy house!” “Will it be gloomy when I am in it?” and Waitstill, usually so grave, laughed at last like a care-free child. Ivory felt himself hidden in the beautiful shelter of the girl's love. It was dark now, or as dark as the night ever is that has moonlight and snow. He took Waitstill in his arms again reverently, and laid his cheek against her hair. “I worship God as well as I know how,” he whispered; “worship him as the maker of this big heaven and earth that surrounds us. But I worship you as the maker of my little heaven and earth, and my heart is saying its prayers to you at this very moment!” “Hush, my dear! hush! and don't value me too much, or I shall lose my head--I that have never known a sweet word in all my life save those that my sister has given me.--I must tell you all about Patty now.” “I happen to know more than you, dear. I met her at the bridge when I was coming home from the woods, and I saw her safely to Uncle Bart's door.--I don't know why we speak of it as Uncle Bart's when it is really Aunt Abby's!--I next met Mark, who had fairly flown from Bridgton on the wings of love, arriving hours ahead of time. I managed to keep him from avenging the insults heaped upon his bride, and he has driven to the Mills to confide in his father and mother. By this time Patty is probably the centre of the family group, charming them all as is her custom.” “Oh, I am so glad Mark is at home! Now I can be at rest about Patty. And I must not linger another moment, for I am going to ask Mrs. Mason to keep me overnight,” cried Waitstill, bethinking herself suddenly of time and place.