ncredible toil a comfortable little house surrounded with
outbuildings. Calves and chickens gave life to the barn-yard, and
fields of wheat rippled and ran with swash of heavy-bearded heads and
dapple of shadow and sheen.

Flaxen was now the housewife and daughter of these hard-working
pioneers, and a cheery and capable one she had become. No one had ever
turned up with a better claim to her, and so she had grown up with Ans
and Bert, going to school when she could spare the time, but mainly
being adviser and associate at the farm.

Ans and Bert had worked hard winter and summer trying to get ahead, but
had not succeeded as they had hoped. Crops had failed for three or four
years, and money was scarce with them; but they had managed to build
this small frame house and to get a little stock about them, and this
year, with a good crop, would "swing clear," and be able to do
something for Flaxen--perhaps send her to Belleplain to school; togged
out like a little queen.

When Anson returned to the house after putting out the horse, he found
Bert reading the paper in the little sitting-room and Flaxen putting
the tea on the stove.

"Wha' d' y' do to him, pap?" laughed she, all her anger gone. Bert came
out to listen.

"Oh, nothin' p'tic'lar," answered Ans, flinging his hat at a chicken
that made as though to come in, and rolling up his sleeves preparatory
to sozzling his face at the sink. "I jest cuffed 'em a little, an' let
'em go."

"Is that all?" said Flaxen, disappointedly, a comical look on her round
face.

"Now, don't you worry," put in Bert. "Anson's cuffin' a man is rather
severe experience. I saw him cuff a man once; it ain't anythin' to be
desired a second time."

They all drew about the table. Flaxen looked very womanly as she sat
cutting the bread and pouring the tea. She had always been old in her
ways about the house, for she had very early assumed the housewife's
duties and cares. Her fresh-coloured face beamed with delight as she
watched the hungry men devouring the fried pork, potatoes, and cheese.

"When y' goin' to begin cuttin', boys?" Collectively they were boys to
her, but when addressing them separately they were "Bert" and "Pap."

"To-morrow 'r nex' day, I guess," answered Anson, looking out of the
open door. "Don't it look fine--all yeller an' green? I tell ye they
ain't anything lays over a ripe field o' wheat in my eyes. You jest
take it when the sun strikes it right, an' the wind is p