Madison turned and walked over to where Mr. Higgins, beside the democrat with a handful of chin whiskers, was observing the scene.

“Fine girl!” declared Mr. Higgins, as Helena, with the Patriarch’s arm in hers, disappeared inside the cottage. “’Pears she must have money, an’ I’m right glad ‘count of the Patriarch—­said her father an’ mother was dead an’ she was alone in the world—­them jewels she wore must have cost a pile.  Reckon she’s been used to livin’ kinder different from the way folks down here do—­hope ‘tain’t goin’ to be so hard on her she won’t want to stay.”

“I was thinking about that myself,” said Madison gravely, knotting his brows as he nodded his head.  “There’s no doubt it will be a big change for her, but I imagine she had some sort of an idea what to expect—­it is certainly greatly to her credit that she would give up her own interests unselfishly and come here to devote her life to the care of a relative whom she had never seen before.  I’ve an idea that the girl who would do that is the kind of a girl who’s got grit enough to see it through.”

“So she be,” said Mr. Higgins heartily.  “Ain’t every one ’ud do it—­not by a heap!”

“I’ll give you a hand with the trunks,” said Madison thoughtfully.

They carried the large trunk between them into the cottage and, as Helena called to them, down the little hallway past what Madison knew to be the Patriarch’s bedroom, and stopped before the next door, which was open.  Madison remembered the room, when nearly two weeks ago now the Patriarch had shown him through the cottage, as a sort of store-room full of odds and ends.  Mr. Higgins, too, evidently had known it only in that guise, for he whistled softly and reached for his whiskers.

“Well now, if that ain’t right smart of the Patriarch!” he exclaimed.  “Real set he must have been on makin’ you feel to home, Miss Vail—­an’ never said a word to no one, neither.”

“Yes,” said Helena, “isn’t it pretty?  And did he really fix this up for me all by himself?”—­she was looking at Madison, as she stood in the center of the room beside the Patriarch.

“Must have,” said Madison, surveying the room.

It wasn’t luxurious, the little chamber, nor was there over much of furniture, nor was that even of a high order—­there was a bed with a red-checkered crazy-quilt; a washstand with severe, heavy white crockery; a rocking chair, homemade, of hickory; a rag mat, round, many-colored; and white muslin curtains on the windows.  It wasn’t luxurious, the little chamber—­it was fresh and sweet and clean.

Upon the Patriarch’s face was a sort of pleased expectancy, and Helena promptly took his arm and pressed it affectionately.

“Isn’t it perfectly dear of him!” she said softly.  “To think of him going to all this trouble for me when he could scarcely see!”

“Well, ’tain’t no more’n you deserve,” said Mr. Higgins gallantly, as he slewed the trunk around against the wall.  “I’ll lug them other trunks in myself, ain’t but small ones, they ain’t”—­and he hurried from the room, as though fearful that Madison might secure a share in the honors.