daring to glance through the small window, lest she should
discover him and be reminded of some imaginary duty toward him that
would make her return.

But, at the end of fifteen minutes, since nothing happened and the
stillness remained profound, he hung the almanac back in its place,
clapped his hands and executed a sort of joy-dance which was quite
original with himself. Then he drew his splint-bottomed chair before
the open fire, tucked his fiddle under his chin, and proceeded to
enjoy himself.

For more than an hour, he played and whistled and felt as royal and
happy as a king. By the end of that time he had grown a little tired
of music, and noticed that the drizzle of the early morning had
settled into a steady, freezing downpour. The trees were already
becoming coated with ice and their branches to creak dismally in the
rising wind.

"Never see such a country for wind as this is. Blows all the time,
the year round. Hope Mercy'll be able to keep ahead of the storm.
She's a powerful free traveller, Mercy is, an' don't stan' for
trifles. But--my soul! Ain't she a talker? I realize _that_ when her
back's turned. It's so still in this cabin I could hear a pin drop, if
there was anybody round hadn't nothin' better to do than to drop one.
Hmm, I s'pose I could find some sort of job out there to the barn. But
I ain't goin' to. I'm just goin' to play hookey by myself this whole
endurin' day, an' see what comes of it. I believe I'll just tackle one
of them pumpkin pies. 'Tain't so long since breakfast, but eatin' kind
of passes the time along. I wish I had a newspaper. I wish somethin'
would turn up. I--I wouldn't let Mercy know it, not for a farm; but
_'tis_ lonesome here all by myself. I hain't never noticed it so much
as I do this mornin'. Whew! Hear that wind! It's a good mile an' a
half to Waldron's. I hope Mercy's got there 'fore this."

Abel closed the outer door, and crossed to the well-stocked cupboard.
As he stood contemplating its contents, and undecided as to which
would really best suit his present mood, there came a sound of
somebody approaching the house along the slippery footpath. This was
so unexpected that it startled the pioneer. Then he reflected: "Mercy.
She's come back!" and remained guiltily standing with his hand upon
the edge of a pie plate, like a school-boy pilfering his mother's
larder.

"Rat-a-tat-a-tat!"

"Somebody knockin'! That ain't Mercy! Who the land, I wonder!"

He made haste