e?"

Blanche suddenly put her hand to her side and grew white and rigid. Then
the blood flamed into her cheeks, and the perspiration stood out on her
forehead. She clinched her lips between her teeth and lay back in her
chair.

"Ye look kind o' faint. Can't I do something for ye? Got any
pain-killer? That's good, well rubbed in," volunteered the old woman.

"No, no, I--I'm all right now, it was just a sharp twinge, that's
all--you'll find the boiler in the shed; I don't need it." Her tone was
one of dismissal.

The old woman rose. "All right, I'll find it. Set still." As she went
out she grinned--a mocking, sly, aggravating grin. "It's all
right--nothin' to be ashamed of. I've had ten. I called _my_ first one
pleurisy. It didn't fool any one, though." She cackled and creaked with
laughter as she shut the door.

Blanche sat motionless, staring straight before her, while the fire died
out and the room grew cold.

Her terror and shame gave way at last, and she allowed herself to dream
of the mystical joy of maternity. She permitted herself to fancy the
life of a mother in a sheltered and prosperous home. She felt in
imagination the touch of little lips, the thrust of little hands, the
cling of little arms. "My baby should come into a lovely, sun-lit room.
It should have a warm, pretty cradle. It should--"

The door opened and her husband entered.

"Why, Blanche--what's the matter? You've let the fire go out. It's cold
as blixen in here. You'll take cold, first you know."

VI

DECEMBER

Winter came late, but with a fury which appalled the strong hearts of
the settlers. Most of them were from the wooded lands of the East, and
the sweep of the wind across this level sod had a terror which made them
quake and cower. The month of December was incredibly severe.

Day after day the thermometer fell so far below zero that no living
thing moved on the wide, white waste. The snows seemed never at rest.
One storm followed another, till the drifting, icy sands were worn as
fine as flour. The house was like a cave. Its windows, thick with frost,
let in only a pallid light at midday. There was little for Blanche to
do, and there was nothing for her to say to Willard, who came and went
aimlessly between the barn and house. His poor old team could no longer
face the cold wind without danger of freezing, and so he walked to the
store for the mail and the groceries. They lived on boiled potatoes and
bacon, suffering