With the coming of the furniture and the furnishing of the office, my
hands were full for the next week. During the time, Mr. Ewart was in
Ottawa on business, and I worked like a Trojan to have everything in
readiness on his return. I was determined he should be the first to
see the transformation of his special room, and forbade Jamie to open
the door so much as a crack that might afford him a peep.
"It does n't seem much like the manor with Ewart away and you invisible
except at meals," he growled from the arm-chair he had placed just
outside the sill of the office door. He begged me to leave the door
open just a little way, enough to enable him to have speech with me--a
privilege I granted, but reluctantly, for I was putting the books on
the shelves and giving the task my whole attention. The last day of
the week was with us, and Mr. Ewart was expected in a few hours. I
stopped long enough, however, to peep at him through the inch-wide
opening. He was drawing away at a cold pipe and looked wholly
disconsolate.
"A new version of Omar Khayyam," I said.
"'A pipe, you know ... and Thou
Beside me, chatting in the wilderness.'"
"I suppose you 'll let me in when Ewart comes."
"I 've nothing to say about that; it is n't my den."
"I was under the impression it was wholly yours, judging from your
possession of it."
"Now, no sarcasm, Jamie Macleod; work is work, and there 's been a lot
to do in here--not but what I 've taken solid comfort in putting this
room into shape."
"Oh, yes, we have seen that; even Cale remarked to me the other night
that he 'guessed' Mr. Ewart knew a good thing when he saw it, as he had
a general furnisher and library assistant all in one, who was working
for his interest about as hard as she could."
"Good for Cale, he is a discerning person. But he seems to be
following suit pretty closely along his lines."
"I hear you 're to catalogue the books that are in the den."
"That is my order."
"Don't you want me to help you? Old French is n't so easy sometimes,"
he asked, coaxing.
"Oh, no; I 've help enough in Mr. Ewart. He knows it a good deal
better than you do."
"'Sass'," was Jamie's sole reply, a word he had borrowed from Cale's
vocabulary; he used it to characterize my attitude towards his
acquirements.
I worked on in silence till the books were housed; then I drew a long
breath of satisfaction.
"What's that sigh for?" was the demand from the other side of the door.
"For a noble deed accomplished, my friend."
"Humph!"
"Now move away your chair, I 'm coming out."
"Come on."
There was no movement of the chair, and, to punish him, I locked the
door on the inside and went out through the kitchen up to my room.
I recall that afternoon: the heavy first-of-December skies; the
gray-black look on the hemlocks; the faded trunks of the lindens; the
dullness of the unreflecting snow; the intermittent soughing of the
wind in the pines. All without looked drear, jaded, almost lifeless;
the cold was penetrating. I determined that all within should be
bright with home cheer on the master's return. Did he not say I had
made a home of the old manor?
I recall dressing myself with unusual care and wishing I had some
light-colored gown to help brighten the interior for him.
For him! I was looking in the mirror and coiling my hair when I
realized my thought; to my amazement my own face seemed to me almost
the face of a stranger. I saw that its thin oval had rounded, the
cheeks gained a faint color; animation was in every feature, life
anticipant in the eyes.
"That's what the change has done so soon; pure air, home life, good
food and an abundance of it."