maybe you’d had to be up all night last night or something; lack of sleep makes[74] eyes look that way; but I believe you’ve got the grippe, and I’m going to put you to bed and give you some homeopathic medicine. Come, tell me the truth. Aren’t you chilly?”

[74]

With a half-sheepish smile the soldier admitted that he was, and a big involuntary shudder ran over his tall frame with the admission.

“Well, it’s high time we got to work. There’s plenty of hot water; and you go up to the bathroom, and take a hot bath. I’ll put a hot-water bag in the bed, and get it good and warm; and I’ve got a long, warm flannel nightgown I guess you can get on. It was made for grandmother, and she was a big woman. Come, we’ll go right up-stairs. I can come down and shut up the house while you’re taking your bath.”

The soldier protested, but Miss Marilla swept all before her. She locked[75] the front door resolutely, and put the chain on. She turned out the parlor light, and shoved the young man before her to the stairs.

[75]

“But I oughtn’t to,” he protested again with one foot on the first step. “I’m an utter stranger.”

“Well, what’s that?” said Miss Marilla crisply. “‘I was a stranger, and ye took me in.’ When it comes to that, we’re all strangers. Come, hurry up; you ought to be in bed. You’ll feel like a new man when I get you tucked up.”

“You’re awfully good,” he murmured, stumbling up the stairs, with a sick realization that he was giving way to the little imps of chills and thrills that were dancing over him, that he was all in, and in a few minutes more he would be a contemptible coward, letting a lone, old woman fuss over him this way.

Miss Marilla turned up the light,[76] and threw back the covers of the spare bed, sending a whiff of lavender through the room. The Franklin heater glowed cheerfully, and the place was warm as toast. There was something sweet and homelike in the old-fashioned room with its queer, ancient framed photographs of people long gone, and its plain but fine old mahogany. The soldier raised his bloodshot eyes, and looked about with a thankful wish that he felt well enough to appreciate it all.

[76]

Miss Marilla had pulled open a drawer, and produced a long, fine flannel garment of nondescript fashion; and from a closet 

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