m to him.

Three days and nights dragged on, after that visit to Drew, before
Gaston came back.

The house had been cleaned and recleaned until it shone. The fire was
kept brilliant, and Joyce donned, in turn, every pretty bit of adornment
that she owned. She decked the pictures with ground-pine, and, in the
act of preparing the dishes for supper that Gaston liked best, he found
her.

"Hello, little girl," he called cheerily; "it look like Christmas. It's
lucky I have some presents in my pack. I believe you fixed up to catch
me, and make me feel like a tight-wad. But I'm one to the good. Don't
peek. After supper we'll have a lark. Have you a kiss by way of
welcome?"

Joyce turned from the lamp she was lighting, and put both her hands on
his shoulders.

"Oh, but it's good to have you back!" she said, and raised her lips to
his.

This fond response to him was the greatest recompense the change in
their lives had brought to Gaston. It warmed the lonely places of his
heart.

It was a jovial meal that followed. Gaston was hungry, the food was
excellent, and Joyce glowed and beamed in the atmosphere of regained
trust.

It was, though, a fleeting peace. When the dishes were removed, Gaston
noticed how tired she looked.

"Happy?" he asked, with a laugh.

"Perfectly." Joyce was filling his pipe.

"Perfectly _nothing!_" he exclaimed, drawing her down to the arm of his
chair. "Now own up, my lady, what have you been doing?"

Gaston expected a rehearsal of daily tasks, more energetically
performed, perhaps, than was necessary.

"I went to see Mr. Drew." The smile fled from Gaston's face. So it was
not housework!

"How is the young D. D.?"

"He looks very ill, but they say he is getting better."

"Did you have a pleasant call?"

Gaston was unreasonably annoyed, but he was curious also.

Joyce dropped her eyes. In a subtle way Gaston felt a change in her. She
was never anything but direct and truthful with him, her attitude was
now, therefore, more significant. He had beaten his life, his personal
life, into a monotonous round outlined on that first night when Joyce
had been thrust into his care. He had grown to think that emotions were
dead and done with; this sudden realization that the first touch from
the outer world could disturb his calm, irritated him beyond measure.

"Mr. Drew was very--kind," Joyce's voice fell dully upon Gaston's
impatience; "he's coming--to see us!"

"The devil he is!" The outb