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the girl looked at her with dark smudged eyes. “You’ll have to go out and chop some sticks tonight, so as I can start the fires first thing in the morning.”
    Doris passed a frail hand across her forehead. “Can’t it wait till the morning?” she whispered.
    Gertie shook her head. “You bring the sticks in that early they’ll be damp, and I won’t be able to get the fires going. You’ll have to do it tonight. The axe is in the shed, and you’ll find the logs piled up behind it.”
    Doris sent one longing look at the smoldering coals in the fireplace, then slowly turned and left the kitchen. Gertie watched her go, trying not to remember that bone-crushing weariness that could numb the very soul.
    Samuel heard the faint sound of chopping as he crossed the courtyard in front of the stables. The young footman had just finished settling the horses for the night after cleaning the two traps.
    The sky was clear, freshened by a stiff breeze from the North Sea, and the sound carried clearly on the cold air. At first he didn’t think the noise had come from the kitchen yard. For one thing, it was too faint, and for another, the sound was uneven, ragged, not the steady chop of someone who knew what he was doing with an axe.
    After closing the gates to the stables, Samuel crossed the grass to the corner of the kitchen wall and peered around it. What he saw made him softly curse, the words riding on a breath of steam.
    Bathed in the light from the kitchen windows, Doris stood in front of the coal shed, a sturdy log standing on end at her feet. Using both hands, she was struggling to swing the axe, without much success.
    As Samuel watched, the slender girl heaved the axe in the air. Either because of her lack of height or the fact that she simply didn’t have the strength to lift it, the axe fell again before it had reached the arc. Instead of slicing cleanly through the log, it bounced off it, barely missing the legs of the exhausted maid.
    With another curse, Samuel strode across the yard and snatched the axe from the startled girl’s hand. “Here,” he said gruffly, “stand yourself back. This shouldn’t take long.”
    Doris started to protest, but he shut her up by saying,“Move further back or you’ll be getting a splinter in your eye.”
    Without another word she obeyed him.
    He gave her a nod of approval, then whipped off his cap and tucked it in his pocket. Flexing his shoulders, he grasped the axe and started the swing. He could tell she was watching him, and the knowledge gave him added strength.
    Again and again he swung the axe, watching the sticks fly in all directions as the axe cut through the wood.
    Slowly the pile of kindling grew, until he was satisfied. “This should do it for now,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
    Doris came forward, her long skirt flapping around her ankles in the chill night breeze. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered. “I am most grateful, to be sure. I thought I would surely be here all night.”
    In the shadowy light he saw her smile. She had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, shy and sort of sad, as if she wasn’t sure what she was smiling about.
    “Think no more about it. I am glad to be of help.” He peered at her, trying to see her eyes more clearly. Beautiful eyes they were, huge dark eyes, like a puppy dog begging to play.
    “I don’t know as how I’m ever going to chop those sticks,” she said in a voice so soft and low he had to strain to hear.
    “You’ll get the hang of it. I’ll show you, if you like.”
    She nodded eagerly, sending warmth right through his heart.
    “Tomorrow?” Already he was looking forward to seeing this fragile girl again.
    To his dismay, she hesitated. “I’m not sure I’ll be chopping sticks tomorrow.”
    Trying to hide his disappointment, he shrugged. “Very well. Another time, perhaps.”
    “The next day?”
    He lifted his head sharply and looked at her in surprise. She laughed, a gentle,