A wave of color came into her face, as instantaneous as I believe it was unexpected, though she said in a matter of fact tone:
"There are other little things to be done, but we'll finish them to-morrow."
"It's already the coziest place in the world," I insisted. "Now I'm going to cut that path, and then we'll have——" but I checked myself and looked at her in some concern. She had worked over hard for me—I had not realized it while we were busy; so now I begged: "Won't you let me cook the dinner? I'm afraid you're about dead!"
"Oh, really I'm not. But I'm hungry and so are you, and——" a little curve came into the corners of her mouth that was very tantalizing, "I think I'd better cook it."
"I was hoping you would," I admitted shamelessly, "even if you are tired."
"Purely a selfish decision on my part, I assure you," she smiled. "I haven't forgotten the breakfast you attempted."
"Very well. I'll cut you a nice straight path for a nice big feed!"
"And don't leave anything in it, will you, Chancellor! It would be dreadful to come running to you in the dark, and stumble and—and bump my nose!"
"Dreadful!" I cried. "It would be the end of the world!"
"Or the end of you," she laughed. "Now get to work, and then you can build the kitchen fire. Don't you think we might have dinner a little earlier to-night?"