"Leg bad again?" asked Desire casually.

"No--temper."

"It's time for tea. I'll see about it."

"You'll take your wet things off first. You must be wet through. Do
you want to come down with pneumonia?"

The girl's eyebrows lifted. "That's silly," she said. And indeed
the remark was absurd enough addressed to one on whom the wonder and
mystery of budding life rested so visibly. "I'm not wet at all," she
went on. "Only my coat." She slipped out of the old tweed ulster,
scattering bright drops about the room. "And my hair," she added as
if by an afterthought. "I'll dry it presently. But I don't wonder
you're cross. The fire is almost out. We'll have something to eat
when the kettle boils. Father's gone up trail. He probably won't be
back." For an instant she stood with a considering air as if
intending to add something. Then turned and went into the kitchen
without doing it. She came back with a handful of pine-knots with
which she deftly mended the fire.

The professor moved restlessly.

"I'll be around soon now," he said, "and then you shan't do that."

"Shan't do what?"

"Carry wood."