out words now in French to Madge, he walked with her
in all haste to the shed from which the horse again whinnied. Morin,
awakening to a sense of urgency, started at a trot, dragging the
toboggan behind him; it sank heavily in snow so light. Courthope lent a
hand to the loop of rope by which it was drawn. He too essayed the trot
of the Canadian. He was growing proficient, and if he did not succeed in
keeping up the running pace, he managed to go more quickly than before.
They made fair progress. Looking back, Courthope saw Madge and the
stranger emerge upon the road with the little horse. He had not time to
look back often to see how they helped it to make its way. They were
still some distance behind when he and Morin reached the house.

The man called Xavier was carried into the kitchen amid wild
exclamations from the Morin women. As they all continued the work of
restoring him with a hearty goodwill and an experience of which
Courthope could not boast, he was glad to betake himself to his own
room, wondering whether he was now a thief or a gentleman in the eyes of
this small snow-bound world. There was, in any case, no one at leisure
to prohibit him from making free with his own possessions.

When he was dressed a certain shyness prohibited him from entering the
dining-room in which he heard Madge, Eliz, and the stranger talking
French together. He betook himself to the library, to the _Letters of
the Portuguese Nun_ and an easy-chair. They might oust him with
severity, but it was as well to enjoy a short interval of luxury. The
room was warmed with a stove; the book was in the old-fashioned type; an
almost sleepless night was behind him; soon he slept.

It was almost midday when he slept; the afternoon was advancing when he
awakened. Madam Morin was standing beside him arranging a tray of food
upon the table.

'Eh!' she said, and smiled upon him.

Then she pointed to the food, and demanded in pantomime if it suited
him. Courthope concluded that he had ceased to be in disgrace. He would
rather, much rather, have been summoned to a family meal, but that was
not his lot. He had taken many things philosophically in the course of
recent hours, and he took this also. What right had he to intrude
himself? He ate his meal alone. His roving glance soon brought him
pleasure, for he found that some one had tip-toed into the room while he
slept and laid the choicest volumes of romance near his chair.

The wind had dropped