“No, no,” she protested, lowering her head. “I thought you’d like it so, I——”
“I understand,” gently. “But it seems——”
“It was a selfish motive after all,” she broke in again. “Your strength is more important than mine——”
He smiled and shook his head.
“You can’t mislead me. Last night I learned something of what you are—gentle, courageous, motherly, self-effacing. I’ll remember you so—always.”
She disengaged her hands abruptly and took up the saucepan.
“Meanwhile, the breakfast is to be cooked—” she said coolly. There was no reproof in her tone, only good fellowship, a deliberate confirmation of her promises of the night before.
With a smile he took the saucepan from her hand and went about his work. It seemed that his failure yesterday to find a way out meant more to him this morning than it did to her. His limbs were heavy, too, and his body ached from top to toe; but he went to the brook and washed, then searched the woods for the blueberries that she liked and silently cooked the meal.
As he did not eat she asked him, “Aren’t you hungry?”