“I guess you’ve made a hit with Mr. Higgins, Helena,” observed Madison, with a grin.

“Have I?” returned Helena absently; then abruptly:  “This is a real nice lay you’ve steered me into, John Madison.”

“Yes; not bad,” said Madison complacently.  “Bring your uncle into the front room, Helena; and then you can get Hiram to show you the well and the old oaken bucket and where the pantries and cupboards are, he knows more about them than I do—­it’s pretty near time for you to be thinking about getting supper.”

“Are you going to stay for it?” inquired Helena pertly.

“For the first attempt!” ejaculated Madison, with a wry face.  “Good Heavens, no!  I’m just convalescing from a serious illness.”

In the front room Madison settled himself to a study of the Patriarch’s beaming, happy face, while Helena under Mr. Higgins’ attentive guidance explored the cottage.

“D’ye know, old chap,” he said, and leaned across the table to touch the Patriarch’s hand, “I feel like a blooming philanthropist.  An outsider might think I was playing you pretty low and taking advantage of you, and even Helena’s got a budding hunch that way it seems—­but just think of the mess you’d have been in if it wasn’t for me, just think of the good you’re going to do, and just look at yourself and see how pleased and happy you look.”

The Patriarch smiled responsively to the touch upon his hand.

“Of course you are,” said Madison affably.

Presently there came the sound of an axe busily at work, and a moment later Helena came laughingly into the room.

“He’s filling up the wood-box,” she explained, and darting across to Madison put her arms around his neck.  “Aren’t you going to tell me you’re glad to see me?” she whispered coyly.  “Oh, I’ve been longing so for you!  Kiss me”—­she held out tempting little red lips, invitingly pursed up.

“Nix on that!” said Madison, smiling but firm, as he disengaged her arms.  “Soft pedal, Helena, my dear.”

“But he can’t see or hear,” pouted Helena.

“I should hope not!” said Madison, with a gasp.  “But you never know who else might, or when they might—­we begin right, and run no risks—­see?  People have a charming habit of dropping around informally here—­everybody’s at home.”

“Don’t you love me any more?” inquired Helena, unconvinced, and still pouting.

“Of course, I do!” asserted Madison, laughing at her.  “Don’t be a goose, Helena.  You remember what I told you all in the Roost, don’t you?  Well, I haven’t been living in a Maine village ten days or two weeks for nothing, and what I said then goes now more than ever.  Now, don’t get sore, kid—­there’s a big stake up, and if we’re going to play the game we’ve got to play it to the limit.  We live perfectly, ultra-proper, decent lives, mentally, morally, physically, till we beat it out of here for keeps.”

“Ain’t we going to have a nice time!” murmured Helena sarcastically.