III


James North did not sleep well that night. He had taken Miss
Bessy's bedroom, at her suggestion, there being but two, and "Dad
never using sheets and not bein' keerful in his habits." It was
neat, but that was all. The scant ornamentation was atrocious; two
or three highly colored prints, a shell work-box, a ghastly winter
bouquet of skeleton leaves and mosses, a star-fish, and two china
vases hideous enough to have been worshiped as Buddhist idols,
exhibited the gentle recreation of the fair occupant, and the
possible future education of the child. In the morning he was met
by Joe, who received the message of his daughter with his usual
dejection, and suggested that North stay with him until the child
was better. That event was still remote; North found, on his
return to his cabin, that the child had been worse; but he did not
know, until Miss Bessy dropped a casual remark, that she had not
closed her own eyes that night. It was a week before he regained
his own quarters, but an active week--indeed, on the whole, a
rather pleasant week. For there was a delicate flattery in being
domineered by a wholesome and handsome woman, and Mr. James North
had by this time made up his mind that she was both. Once or twice
he found himself contemplating her splendid figure with a
recollection of the doctor's compliment, and later, emulating her
own frankness, told her of it.

"And what did YOU say?" she asked.

"Oh, I laughed and said--nothing."