After Steve had fed her and seen that she was comfortable for the
night, he made his way into the house with a feeling that only a very
happy man can understand.

Nannie was busy upstairs and called to him not to come up, as she had
a surprise in store. He was to stir the fire and set her chair, which
she would fill directly, and Steve had done all this and now was
walking about the room, which was bright and pretty in the firelight,
handling the books and magazines, trying a chord or two on the piano,
and looking occasionally from the windows out into the night.

That was wild enough, what with wind, and ice, and snow. Every now
and then the little house shuddered in the blast, which was shrieking
in the chimneys. The window glass was bearded with snow, which melted
here and there and ran for a little space; then, lest one should fancy
the weather were shedding repentant tears, it stiffened into ice
straightway. Down at the foot of the bluff the lake was booming; there
was something to make the blood run cold about its mighty passion. One
thought of the boats at its mercy that night and whispered, God help
them!

There, in the center of it all, 'neath the trees that were clashing
arms with one another in the storm, stood the snug little home, with
the study, over whose pictured walls the cheery, flickering light
played at glow and shadow. And there, close to the merry blaze, poker
in hand, sat Steve, as happy, as well content a man as you'd find,
though you looked far and wide. Brownie occupied the other chair, and
it appeared that he had much to say. Nannie was singing--singing to
the baby upstairs--and Steve and Brownie hearkened to the pretty
notes.

"You hear that, sir?" asked Brownie, with his head slightly tilted and
cocked on one side.

Steve poked assent at the fire.

"You didn't think much of her at one time, did you?"

Steve was gravely shocked and promptly poked remonstrance into the
glowing coals.

"Well, you were rather discouraged about her--you know that,"
persisted Brownie.

Steve looked ashamed, but he was honest enough to nod slightly.

"And now you see there isn't a less wearisome, a nicer, brighter----"

Here Steve interrupted by stabbing the fire's front in a manner
betokening the heartiest concurrence.

Just at this point the subject of these thrusts entered the room.

"No, you don't, Steve--no, sir. You shan't even have a squint till I
get to the fire."

And carefully covering