ll your life seek one thing for yourself,
one thing, one little thing? Away back there in Ontario you slaved and
slaved and went without things yourself that all the rest of us might
get them. Here it has been just the same. Haven't I seen your face
and your hands, your poor hands,"--here the boy's voice broke with an
indignant passion--"blue with the cold when you could not get furs to
protect them? Never, never shall I forget those days." The boy stopped
abruptly, unable to go on.

Quickly the mother drew her son toward her. "Larry, my son, my son, you
must never think that a hard time. Did ever a woman have such joy as I?
When I think of other mothers and of other children, and then think of
you all here, I thank God every day and many times a day that he has
given us each other. And, Larry, my son, let me say this, and you will
remember it afterwards. You have been a continual joy to me, always,
always. You have never given me a moment's anxiety or pain. Remember
that. I continually thank God for you. You have made my life very
happy."

The boy put his face down on her lap with his arms tight around her
waist. Never in their life together had they been able to open these
deep, sacred chambers in their souls to each other's gaze. For some
moments he remained thus, then lifting up his face, he kissed her again
and again, her forehead, her eyes, her lips. Then rising to his feet, he
stood with his usual smile about his lips. "You always beat me. But will
you not think this all over again carefully, and we will do what you
say? But will you promise, Mother, to think it over again and look at my
side of it too?"

"Yes, Larry, I promise," said his mother. "Now run after the girls, and
I shall have tea ready for you."

As Larry rode down the lane he saw the young German, Ernest Switzer, and
his sister riding down the trail and gave them a call. They pulled up
and waited.

"Hello, Ernest; whither bound? How are you, Dorothea?"

"Home," said the young man, "and you?"

"Going up by the timber lot, around by the cool road. The girls are on
before."

"Ah, so?" said the young man, evidently waiting for an invitation.

"Do you care to come? It's not much longer that way," said Larry.

"I might," said the young man. Then looking doubtfully at his sister,
"You cannot come very well, Dorothea, can you?"

"No, that is, I'm afraid not," she replied. She was a pretty girl with
masses of yellow hair, light blue eyes, a plu