ter than these things--the clear air of sunrise, the keen,
sweet smell of the fertile earth, the relaxation of tired muscles? Why
should he, who had been born to the soil, struggle forth to alien ends
as a sightless earthworm to the harrow's teeth?

On his way in from the fields he stopped an instant at the gate of the
barnyard to look at the red-and-white cow that was licking her little,
tottering calf. Some rollicking lambs were skipping near a dignified
group of ewes, that looked on with half-fearful, half-disapproving
faces.

At the pump he saw his stepmother filling a water bucket, and he took it
from her hands.

"I reckon it is too heavy for you to carry," he said timidly.

"'Tain't much to tote," returned Marthy Burr opposingly. "If I'd never
had nothin' more'n that to bear I'd have as straight a back as yo' pa's
got. 'Tain't the water buckets as bends a woman, nohow; it's the things
as the Lord lays on extry."

She relinquished the bucket and followed Nicholas resentfully to the
house.

"I never did care 'bout havin' folks come 'round interferin' with my
burdens," she murmured half-aggrievedly. "I ain't done for yet, an' when
I is I reckon I'll know it as soon as anybody--lessen it's yo' pa, who's
got powerful sharp eyes at seein' the failin's of other people--an'
powerful dull ones when it comes to recognisin' his own."

Then she set about preparing breakfast, and Nicholas flung himself into
a chair on the porch. Nannie, a pretty, auburn-haired girl, was grinding
coffee in a small mill, and he looked at her thoughtfully; then Jubal
came out, whittling a stick, and he turned his gaze inquiringly upon
him.

"What would you like to do in the world, Jubal?" he asked, "best of
all?"

Jubal looked up in perplexity, his fat forehead wrinkling.

"You ain't countin' in eatin', I s'pose?" he replied doubtfully.

Nicholas shook his head.

"No, leave out eating," he said.

"An' the splittin' open of that durn livered Spike Turner?"

"Yes, that too."

Jubal whittled slowly, his forehead wrinkling more deeply.

"Then I don't know whether it's to give ma a rest or to own Billy
Flinders's coon dog, Boss," he said.

Nicholas laughed for an instant, but the laugh softened into a smile.

At the table he asked his stepmother and Sairy Jane about the spring
chickens, and they answered with surprised eagerness.

"I am going to mark the lambs to-morrow," he said. "They're a nice lot."
And he added: "Some day