ls; wild flowers blossomed where the white carpet had lain; the ice
was ready to break and move out to sea with the next wind from the
west. There were no more foxes to be caught. Jim Grimm bundled the
skins, strapped them on his back, and took them to the storekeeper at
Shelter Harbour, five miles up the coast; and when their value had
been determined he came home disconsolate.

Jimmie's mother had been watching from the window. "Well?" she said,
when the man came in.

"'Tis not enough," he groaned. "I'm sorry, mum; but 'tis not enough."

She said nothing, but waited for him to continue; for she feared to
give him greater distress.

"'Twas a fair price he gave me," Jim Grimm continued. "I'm not
complainin' o' that. But there's not enough t' do more than keep us in
food, with pinchin', till we sells the fish in the fall. I'm sick,
mum--I'm fair sick an' miserable along o' disappointment."

"'Tis sad t' think," said the mother, "that Jimmie's not t' be
cured--after all."

"For the want o' twelve dollars!" he sighed.

They were interrupted by the clatter of Jimmie's crutches, coming in
haste from the inner room. Then entered Jimmie.

"I heered what you said," he cried, his eyes blazing, his whole worn
little body fairly quivering with excitement. "I heered you say
'cure.' Is I t' be cured?"

They did not answer.

"Father! Mama! Did you say I was t' be cured?"

"Hush, dear!" said the mother.

"I can't hush. I wants t' know. Father, tell me. Is I t' be cured?"

"Jim," said the mother to Jim Grimm, "tell un."

"You is!" Jim shouted, catching Jimmie in his arms, and rocking him
like a baby. "You _is_ t' be cured. Debt or no debt, lad, I'll see
you cured!"

* * * * *

The matter of credit was easily managed. The old storekeeper at
Shelter Harbour did not hesitate. Credit? Of course, he would give Jim
Grimm that. "Jim," said he, "I've knowed you for a long time, an' I
knows you t' be a good man. I'll fit you out for the summer an' the
winter, if you wants me to, an' you can take your own time about
payin' the bill." And so Jim Grimm withdrew twelve dollars from the
credit of his account.

They began to keep watch on the ice--to wish for a westerly gale, that
the white waste might be broken and dispersed.

"Father," said Jimmie, one night, when the man was putting him to bed,
"how long will it be afore that there Kurepain comes?"

"I 'low the steamer'll soon be h