She was gone before he could speak another word and he heard her talking to Charlie in petting playful terms of endearment. Judging from the sounds in the kitchen, he concluded, and rightly, that she was getting her own supper and that of the dog at the same time. For two or three minutes he sat inert, considering his strange and unique position. What would this present adventure lead to? Unless his new friend, Mary Deane, examined the vest he had asked her to take care of for him, she would not discover who he was or from whence he came. Would she examine it?--would she unrip the lining, just out of feminine curiosity, and sew it up again, pretending that she had not touched it, after the "usual way of women"? No! He was sure,--absolutely sure--of her integrity. What? In less than an hour's acquaintance with her, would he swear to her honesty? Yes, he would! Never could such eyes as hers, so softly, darkly blue and steadfast, mirror a falsehood, or deflect the fragment of a broken promise! And so, for the time being, in utter fatigue of both body and mind, he put away all thought, all care for the future, and resigned himself to the circumstances by which he was now surrounded. Undressing as quickly as he could in his weak and trembling condition, he got into the bed so comfortably prepared for him, and lay down in utter lassitude, thankful for rest. After he had lain so for a few minutes he called: "Mary Deane!" She came at once, and looked in, smiling. "All cosy and comfortable?" she queried--"That's right!" Then entering the room, she showed him the very vest, the possible fate of which he had been considering. "This is quite dry now,"--she said--"I've been thinking that perhaps as there are letters and papers inside, you'd like to have it near you,--so I'm just going to put it in here--see?" And she opened a small cupboard in the wall close to the bed--"There! Now I'll lock it up"--and she suited the action to the word--"Where shall I put the key?" "Please keep it for me yourself!" he answered, earnestly,--"It will be safest with you!" "Well, perhaps it will,"--she agreed. "Anyhow no one can get at your letters without _my_ consent! Now, are you quite easy?" And, as she spoke, she came and smoothed the bedclothes over him, and patted one of his thin, worn hands which lay, almost unconsciously to himself, outside the quilt. "Quite!" he said, faintly, "God bless you!" "And you too!" she responded--"Good-night--David!" "Good-night--Mary!" She went away with a light step, softly closing the door behind her. Returning to the kitchen she took up the little dog Charlie in her arms, and nestled him against her bosom, where he was very well content to be, and stood for a moment looking meditatively into the fire. "Poor old man!" she murmured--"I'm so glad I found him before it was too late! He would have died out there on the hills, I'm sure! He's very ill--and so worn out and feeble!"