"Thanks."

The dry heat from the burning wood was already warming the room.
Outside he heard the morning songs of the birds. It no longer seemed
early to him. It was as though the world were fully awake, just
because he knew now that Sally was awake. For a few minutes Mrs.
Halliday continued her tasks as though unmindful that he was about. It
was such a sort of friendly acceptance of him as part of the
household that he began to feel as much at home here as though it were
his usual custom to appear at this hour. There was something more
friendly about even Mrs. Halliday's back than about the faces of a
great many people he knew. It looked as though it had borne a great
many burdens, but having borne them sturdily was ready for more. It
invited confidences. Then the teakettle began to bubble and sing and
that invited confidences too. He was choking with things he wished to
say--preferably to Sally herself, but if that were not possible, then
Mrs. Halliday was certainly the next best confidante. Besides, being
the closest relative of Sally's it was only fitting and proper that
she should be told certain facts. Sooner or later she must know and
now seemed a particularly opportune time. Don rose and moved his chair
to attract her attention.

"Mrs. Halliday--" he began.

"Wal?" she replied, without turning. She was at that moment busy over
the biscuit board.

"There's something I think I ought to tell you."

She turned instantly at that--turned, adjusted her spectacles, and
waited.

"I--I've asked Sally to marry me," he confessed.

For a moment her thin, wrinkled face remained immobile. Then he saw a
smile brighten the shrewd gray eyes.

"You don't say!" she answered. "I've been wonderin' just how long ye'd
be tellin' me that."

"You knew? Sally told you?" he exclaimed.

"Not in so many words, as ye might say," she answered. "But laws sake,
when a girl wakes me up to say she doesn't think a young man has
blankets enough on his bed in this kind of weather--"

"She did that?" interrupted Don.

"Thet's jest what she did. But long afore thet you told me yourself."

"I?"

"Of course. It's jest oozin' out all over you."

She came nearer. For a second Don felt as though those gray eyes were
boring into his soul.

"Look here, young man," she said. "What did Sally say?"

"She said she'd let me know this morning," he answered.

"And you've been blamin' my old rooster for gettin' you up?"

"Not blaming him