ack and Stella went ashore. Lefty
Howe came down to meet them. Thirty-five or forty men were stringing
away from the camp, back to their work in the woods. Some waved greeting
to Jack Fyfe, and he waved back in the hail-fellow fashion of the camps.

"How's the frau, Lefty?" he inquired, after they had shaken hands.

"Fine. Down to Vancouver. Sister's sick," Howe answered laconically.
"House's all shipshape. Wanta eat here, or up there?"

"Here at the camp, until we get straightened around," Fyfe responded.
"Tell Pollock to have something for us in about half an hour. We'll go
up and take a look."

Howe went in to convey this message, and the two set off up the path. A
sudden spirit of impishness made Jack Fyfe sprint. Stella gathered up
her skirt and raced after him, but a sudden shortness of breath overtook
her, and she came panting to where Fyfe had stopped to wait.

"You'll have to climb hills and row and swim so you'll get some wind,"
Fyfe chuckled. "Too much easy living, lady."

She smiled without making any reply to this sally, and they entered the
house--the House of Fyfe, that was to be her home.

If the exterior had pleased her, she went from room to room inside with
growing amazement. Fyfe had finished it from basement to attic without a
word to her that he had any such undertaking in hand. Yet there was
scarcely a room in which she could not find the visible result of some
expressed wish or desire. Often during the winter they had talked over
the matter of furnishings, and she recalled how unconsciously she had
been led to make suggestions which he had stored up and acted upon. For
the rest she found her husband's taste beyond criticism. There were
drapes and rugs and prints and odds and ends that any woman might be
proud to have in her home.

"You're an amazing sort of a man, Jack," she said thoughtfully. "Is
there anything you're not up to? Even a Chinese servant in the kitchen.
It's perfect."

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I hoped you would."

"Who wouldn't?" she cried impulsively. "I love pretty things. Wait till
I get done rearranging."

They introduced themselves to the immobile-featured Celestial when they
had jointly and severally inspected the house from top to bottom. Sam
Foo gazed at them, listened to their account of themselves, and
disappeared. He re-entered the room presently, bearing a package.

"Mist' Chol' Bentlee him leave foh yo'."

Stella looked at it. On the outer wrapp