“Did it seem long?” he asked.
“Oh, weeks and weeks! You must be frozen to an icicle. Come in and get warm.”
“I’m as warm as toast,” he assured her.
He was glowing with exercise and the sting of the cold, for he had tramped two miles through drifts from three to five feet deep, battling with them every step of the way, and carrying with him on the return trip a box of provisions.
“With all that snow on you and the pack on your back, it’s like Santa Claus,” she cried, clapping her hands.
“Before we’re through with the adventure we may think that box a sure enough gift from Santa,” he replied.
After he had put it down, he took off his overcoat on the threshold and shook the snow from it. Then, with much feet stamping and scattering of snow, he came in. She fluttered about him, dragging a chair up to the fire for him, and taking his hat and gloves. It amused and pleased him that she should be so solicitous, and he surrendered himself to her ministrations.
His quick eye noticed the swept floor and the evanishment of disorder. “Hello! What’s this clean through a fall house-cleaning? I’m not the only member of the firm that has been working. Dishes washed, floor swept, bed made, kitchen fire lit. You’ve certainly been going some, unless the fairies helped you. Aren’t you afraid of blistering these little hands?” he asked gaily, taking one of them in his and touching the soft palm gently with the tip of his finger.
“I should preserve those blisters in alcohol to show that I’ve really been of some use,” she answered, happy in his approval.
“Sho! People are made for different uses. Some are fit only to shovel and dig. Others are here simply to decorate the world. Hard world. Hard work is for those who can’t give society anything else, but beauty is its own excuse for being,” he told her breezily.