"Oh, nonsense!" I replied, laughing at such a restriction. "I 'm used to it—
"I intend you to be unused to it in my house—you understand?"
There was decided command in these words; they irritated me as well as the look he gave me. But I remembered in time that, after all, the old manor of Lamoral was his house, not mine, and it would be best for me to obey orders.
"Very well; I 'll ask Marie and little Pete to help me."
Marie appeared with the porridge, a little earlier than usual on Jamie's account, and Mr. Ewart asked her to bring a lighted candle.
"Come into the office for a moment," he said, leading the way with the light.
He stopped at the threshold to let me pass. The room was warm; the soapstone heater was doing effective work. The snow gleamed white beneath the curtainless windows, and the crowding hemlocks showed black pointed masses against the moonlight. There was some frost on the panes.
"It looks bare enough now," he said, raising the candle at the full stretch of his arm that I might see the oak panels of the ceiling; "I leave it to you to make it cheery. Here 's something that will help out in this room and in the living-room."
He took a large pasteboard box from the floor, and we went back into the other room. Jamie and Mrs. Macleod were there.
"Now, what have you there, Gordon?" said the former, frankly showing the curiosity that is a part of his make-up.