By the time he had walked up the long hill through a beating snow-storm, he was thoroughly chilled and self-disgusted, desirous only of shelter and peace. Both met him, when he pushed open the door of his house and stepped into the warm, bright room. When the door closed behind him, he definitely shut outside the image of Lucille Masterson.
With a little rush Elsie came to meet him, lifting her warm and rosy face for his kiss. The puppy scrambled across the floor, uttering staccato yelps of salute.
"I've named our house," the girl announced gleefully. "You know, we have named everything else. Don't you like Alaric Cottage?"
"I like the inside of it to-night, all right. But why Alaric?"
"Because it is so early-Gothic, of course. You must appreciate our front porch, Anthony. Oh, you are wet and cold! Hurry and change your things—I have them all laid out—and I will feed you, sir."
So the matter passed for that time, and was forgotten.
CHAPTER XI
The Glowing Hearth
Christened Noel, in honor of the day of his arrival, the puppy thrived and grew toward young doghood in a household atmosphere of serene content. From Christmas to Easter the days flowed by in an untroubled current of time. Day after day, Anthony and Elsie Adriance grew into closer and fuller companionship. The winter was a hard and long one, but never dull to them.
