open. Madison remembered the room, when nearly two weeks ago now the
Patriarch had shown him through the cottage, as a sort of store-room
full of odds and ends. Mr. Higgins, too, evidently had known it only in
that guise, for he whistled softly and reached for his whiskers.

"Well now, if that ain't right smart of the Patriarch!" he exclaimed.
"Real set he must have been on makin' you feel to home, Miss Vail--an'
never said a word to no one, neither."

"Yes," said Helena, "isn't it pretty? And did he really fix this up for
me all by himself?"--she was looking at Madison, as she stood in the
center of the room beside the Patriarch.

"Must have," said Madison, surveying the room.

It wasn't luxurious, the little chamber, nor was there over much of
furniture, nor was that even of a high order--there was a bed with a
red-checkered crazy-quilt; a washstand with severe, heavy white
crockery; a rocking chair, homemade, of hickory; a rag mat, round,
many-colored; and white muslin curtains on the windows. It wasn't
luxurious, the little chamber--it was fresh and sweet and clean.

Upon the Patriarch's face was a sort of pleased expectancy, and Helena
promptly took his arm and pressed it affectionately.

"Isn't it perfectly dear of him!" she said softly. "To think of him
going to all this trouble for me when he could scarcely see!"

"Well, 'tain't no more'n you deserve," said Mr. Higgins gallantly, as he
slewed the trunk around against the wall. "I'll lug them other trunks