“Bank the fires, eh?” he growled.  “Not put them out?  I should suppose you would have wanted them drowned out in a flood of tears of repentance for letting them burn.”

“No!  You are you, and the fires are warming—­when they are kept under control.  You’re fighting the harder for your patient’s life because the fight’s a hard one.  But when you let the Devil fan the flame—­”

He burst into a great, unexpected laugh and caught her to his breast again.  “That’s what I’m doing, is it?  That ever I should have lived to hear you use a phrase like that!  But it’s a true one, I admit it.  I’ve let his Satanic Majesty have his own way with me, and bade him welcome, too.  I may again, when I get away from you.  But—­well—­I know you’re right.  I—­I’ll try to bank the fires, little wife.  Only don’t expect too much.”

“Red,” said she,—­and it was not at all the sort of rejoinder he might have expected after his concession,—­“why is there no woodpile now behind the house?”

“Woodpile?” He was clearly puzzled.  “Why, there’s plenty of wood in the cellar, you know, if you want fires.  You can’t be suffering for them, this weather?”

“No, but I wish there were a woodpile there.  Did you think you wouldn’t need one any more after you were married?  You should have laid in a double supply.”

“But, what for?  Oh!—­” Light dawned upon him.  “Somebody’s told you how I used to whack at it.”

“Yes, and I saw you once myself, only I didn’t know what put the energy into your blows.  It was a splendid safety-valve.  Red,—­send for a load of wood to-day, please!”

“In July!  You hard-hearted little wretch!  Do you want me reduced to a pulp?”

She nodded.  “Better that than burning like a bonfire.  And better than running the Imp sixty miles an hour.  That doesn’t help you,—­it merely helps your arch enemy fan the flames.”

He laughed again, and the sound of his own laughter did him good, according to the laws of Nature.  “Bless you, you’ve put him to rout for the moment at least, and that’s more than any other human soul has ever done for mine, before.”

He kissed her, tenderly, and understanding what he did.  In his heart he adored her for the sweetness and sense which had kept her from taking these days of trial as a personal affront and finding offence in them.

They went out to dinner, and Burns found himself somehow able to forget sufficiently to enjoy the appetizing dishes which were served to him, and to keep his brow clear and his mind upon the table talk.  When he went away, afterward, back to the scene of his irritation and anxiety, he bore with him a peculiar sense of having his good genius with him, to help him tend those devastating fires of temperament which when they burned too fiercely could only hinder him in the fight he waged.

It was almost daybreak when he returned.  Ellen was not asleep, although she did not expect him to come upstairs, if only for fear of disturbing her at that hour.  But presently the cautious opening of her door caused her to raise her head and lift her arms.  Her husband came to her, and sat down close beside her.