“I came because I had to see for myself what sort of a place you were in.  I had a notion that it wasn’t good enough.  It isn’t.  You can’t be comfortable in it, through the most of the year.  Neither can Madam Chase.”

“We can be perfectly comfortable.”  She spoke quickly and decidedly.  “You know absolutely that I wouldn’t sacrifice what is dearest to me in the world for the sake of having my own way.  The little house is primitive, but Granny can be made as snug in it as in any stone mansion.”

“The thing may tumble down about your ears in the first high wind.”

“It will not.  Dr. Burns went over it thoroughly, and says it is much more substantial than it looks.”

“Dr. Burns!  May I ask who the gentleman is?”

“My neighbour across the street.  He is devoted to Granny, and had as many fears as you could have before he tested the house.”

“Is he married?”

“Certainly.”  It was impossible to help laughing a little at his tone, which was that of a jealous boy.

“Thank heaven for that!  I’m suspicious of men who are devoted to your grandmother, charming old lady though she is.  But, in spite of Dr. Burns’s invaluable opinion, I must beg to differ with him.  You can’t be comfortable in that chicken-coop through the winter.”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said slowly, sitting up very straight in the twilight, and looking steadily in front of her, “that you have any right to care whether we are comfortable or not.”

“No right to care?  Not the right of an old friend?  Charlotte, you wouldn’t deny me that?  Why, child, I saw you grow up.  I was your father’s trusted friend, in spite of being much younger than he.  And I’m not so much older than you, after all—­only fifteen years.  You might at least let me play at being elder brother to you.”

“I did let you play that for a long, long time.  It was only when—­”

She paused.  He took her up.

“Only when I began to intimate that the relation wasn’t fully satisfying that you began to give me the cold shoulder.  You haven’t even written to me since you’ve been here.  Are you aware of that?”

She nodded.  “There was nothing to write.  And I’ve been very busy.”

He drew in his breath, held it for a minute, and let it go again explosively.

“Charlotte,” said he, presently, “it seems to me I’ve lost ground with you.  I wish I knew why.  You know perfectly well that I won’t bother you with my suit if you won’t listen to it,—­at least, I won’t bother you with it all the time.  I don’t promise to give up hope.  But what I can’t bear is to have you treat me as if you wouldn’t have even my friendship any longer.  It hurts to hear you say I have no right to care whether you live in a comfortable home or not.”