“Here, you let me do that,” said Andrew, and was down on his knees beside her.  The two were cramming the fuel into the little, air-tight stove, while Robert was greeting Ellen.  The awkwardness of the situation was evidently overcoming her.  She was quite pale, and her voice trembled as she returned his good-evening.  Amabel left the young man, and clung tightly to Ellen’s hand, drawing her skirt around her until only her little face was visible above the folds.

[Illustration:  The awkwardness of the situation was evidently overcoming her]

The fumes from a match filled the room, and the fire began to roar.

“It’ll be warm in a minute,” said Fanny, rising.  “You leave the register open till it’s real good and hot, Ellen, and there’s plenty more wood in the basket.  Here, Amabel, you come out in the other room with Aunt Fanny.”

But Amabel, instead of obeying, made a dart towards Robert, who caught her up, laughing, and smuggled her into the depths of his fur-lined coat.

“Come right along, Amabel,” said Fanny.

But Amabel clung fast to Robert, with a mischievous roll of an eye at her aunt.

“Amabel,” said Fanny, authoritatively.

“Come, Amabel,” said Andrew.

“Oh, let her stay,” Robert said, laughing.  “I’ll keep her in my coat until it is warm.”

“I’m afraid she’ll bother you,” said Fanny.

“Not a bit,” replied Robert.

“You are a naughty girl, Amabel,” said Fanny; but she went out of the room, with Andrew at her heels.  She did not know what else to do, since the young man had expressed a desire to keep the child.  She had thought he would have preferred a tete-a-tete with Ellen.  Ellen sat down on the sofa covered with olive-green plush, beyond the table, and the light of the hideous lamp fell full upon her face.  She was thin, and much of her lovely bloom was missing between her agitation and the cold; but Robert, looking at her, realized how dear she was to him.  There was something about that small figure, and that fair head held with such firmness of pride, and that soul outlooking from steady blue eyes, which filled all his need of life.  His love for the pearl quite ignored its setting of the common and the ridiculous.  He looked at her and smiled.  Ellen smiled back tremulously, then she cast down her eyes.  The fire was roaring, but the room was freezing.  The sitting-room door was opened a crack, and remained so for a second, then it was widened, and Andrew peeped in.  Then he entered, tiptoeing gingerly, as if he were afraid of disturbing a meeting.  He brought a blue knitted shawl, which he put over Ellen’s shoulders.

“Mother thinks you had better keep this on till the room gets warm,” he whispered.  Then he withdrew, shutting the door softly.

Robert, left alone with Ellen in this solemnly important fashion, felt utterly at a loss.  He had never considered himself especially shy, but an embarrassment which was almost ridiculous was over him.  Ellen sat with her eyes cast down.  He felt that the child on his knee was regarding them both curiously.