All her life her least whims had been
ministered to; she was reveling in a first attempt at service. As she
moved to and fro with an improvised dust-rag, sunshine filled her
being. From her lips the joy notes fell in song, shaken from her throat
for sheer happiness. This surely was life, that life from which she had
so carefully been hedged all the years of her young existence.

As he came down the trail he had broken, with a pack on his back, the
man heard her birdlike carol in the clear frosty air. He emptied his
chest in a deep shout, and she was instantly at the window, waving him
a welcome with her dust-rag.

"I thought you were never coming," she cried from the open door as he
came up the path.

Her eyes were starry in their eagerness. Every sensitive feature was
alert with interest, so that the man thought he had never seen so
mobile and attractive a face.

"Did it seem long?" he asked.

"Oh, weeks and weeks! You must be frozen to an icicle. Come in and get
warm."

"I'm as warm as toast," he assured her.

He was glowing with exercise and the sting of the cold, for he had
tramped two miles through drifts from three to five feet deep, battling
with them every step of the way, and carrying with him on the return
trip a box of provisions.

"With all that snow on you and the pack on your back, it's like Santa
Claus," she cried, clapping her hands.

"Before we're through with the adventure we may think that box a sure
enough gift from Santa," he replied.

After he had put it down, he took off his overcoat on the threshold and
shook the snow from it. Then, with much feet stamping and scattering of
snow, he came in. She fluttered about him, dragging a chair up to the
fire for him, and taking his hat and gloves. It amused and pleased him
that she should be so solicitous, and he surrendered himself to her
ministrations.

His quick eye noticed the swept floor and the evanishment of disorder.
"Hello! What's this clean through a fall house-cleaning? I'm not the
only member of the firm that has been working. Dishes washed, floor
swept, bed made, kitchen fire lit. You've certainly been going some,
unless the fairies helped you. Aren't you afraid of blistering these
little hands?" he asked gaily, taking one of them in his and touching
the soft palm gently with the tip of his finger.

"I should preserve those blisters in alcohol to show that I've really
been of some use," she answered, happy in his approval.

"S