development, carried herself as
erect, and looked everybody in the eye with the same laughing
directness.

There were some sly remarks among a ribald few, but on the whole
everything passed off as usual. They were both general favorites, and
as a matter of fact few people remarked that Flaxen's dress was not
good enough. She certainly forgot all about it, so complete was her
absorption in the gayety of the evening.

"Wal, now for four weeks' hard times, Flaxen," said Anson, as they were
jogging homeward about eleven o'clock.

"I can stand _my_ share of it, pap," she stoutly replied. "I'm no
chicken."

CHAPTER VII.

AFTER HARVEST.

All through those four or five weeks, at every opportunity, the
partners planned the future of their waif. In the harvest-field, when
they had a moment together, one would say to the other:

"We'll let her stay two years if she likes it, eh?"

"Certainly; she needn't come back till she wants to. We may be rich
enough to sell out then, and move back ourselves. I'm gittin' tired o'
this prairie myself. If we could sell, we'd put her through a whole
course o' sprouts."

"You bet! Sell when you can find a buyer. I'll sign the deed."

"All right."

And then they would go to work again toiling and planning for the
future. Every day during August these men worked with the energy of
demons, up early in the morning and out late at night, harvesting their
crop. All day the header clattered to and fro with Bert or Ans astride
the rudder, a cloud of dust rolling up from the ground, out of which
the painted flanges of the reel flashed like sword-strokes. All day,
and day after day; while the gulls sailed and soared in the hazy air
and the larks piped from the dun grass, these human beings, covered
with grime and sweat, worked in heat and parching wind. And never for
an hour did they forget their little waif and her needs. And she did
her part in the house. She rose as early as they and worked almost as
late. It was miraculous, they admitted.

One night toward the last of the harvest they were returning along the
road from a neighboring farm, where they had been to head some late
wheat. The tired horses with down-hung heads and swinging traces were
walking sullenly but swiftly along the homeward road, the wagon
rumbling sleepily; the stars were coming out in the east, while yet the
rose and amethyst of the fallen sun lighted the western sky. Through
the air, growing moist, came the