"Yes. It lies 'cross the river from Ridge House, and when I think of it," a suggestion of radiance broke on Mary's face, "I get a rising in my side. I'm aiming to get it back——"
The girl stopped short—something in her threatened to break loose.
The pause gave Doris a moment to consider. She was baffled by Mary, but she saw clearly that the girl had but one desire.
"Mary," she said, presently, "I have always intended, when the children no longer needed you, to give you some proof of my appreciation of all that you have done for us. You seem to have shown me a way. You shall have the old cabin, if it can be obtained, and it shall be made comfortable for you. It is not so far but what you can have a little oversight of Ridge House, too, and that will mean a great deal to me. I am thinking of opening the house sometime."
Doris got no further for, to her astonishment, Mary rose and came stiffly toward her. When she was near enough she reached out her hands and said:
"God hearing me, 'I'll pay you back some day. I will; I will!"
Doris was embarrassed.
"You have paid everything you owe me, Mary," she returned, quietly. "It is my turn now. I will see about the cabin at once."
Finally a letter came from Thornton. A dictated letter.
He was about to leave for South Africa and would be gone perhaps several years.