Square, was restored. The dry shelter, the warm
fire, the sense of escape from the elements, all filled
her heart with gladness. Never since the day she
met him on the bridge had she been so happy.
Again, as when Oliver championed her in the old
Academy school-room, there stole over her a vague
sense of pleasure in being protected.

"Isn't it jolly!" she said as she sat hunched up
beside him. "I'm as dry as a bone, not a drop on
me."

Oliver was even more buoyant. There was something
irresistibly cosey and comfortable in the shelter
which he had provided for her--something of
warmth and companionship and rest. But more intensely
enjoyable than all was the thought that he
was taking care of a woman for the first time in his
life, as it seemed to him. And in a house of his own
making, and in a place, too, of his own choosing,
surrounded by the big trees that he loved. He had
even outwitted the elements--the wind and the rain
and the chill--in her defence. Old Moose Hillock
could bellow now and White Face roar, and the wind
and rain vent their wrath, but Margaret, close beside
him, would still be warm and dry and safe.

By this time she had hung her tam-o'-shanter and
jacket on a nail that she had found in the bark over
her head, and was arranging her hair.