, an'
then th' house lit over on th' other corner an' went t' pieces like a
dry-goods box. That kitchen table was th' savin' of us! I don't know how
it got over us, but there it was with th' safe an' water-bench a holdin'
th' timbers off'n us." Nathan wound up his story in a lowered tone, and
there was silence for a moment as each went over his personal experience
in thought.

"Gittin' warm there, Elizabeth?" he asked after a time.

"A little," the girl answered, still shivering, but with less audible
chattering of her teeth.

"You'll be all right in half an hour," Nathan said with a relieved sigh.
"I think we'll put a little more of these oats over you for good luck," he
added.

They heaped the warm grain thick about her, and then, because it was hard
to converse with the noise of the roaring wind outside, gave up the
effort. The old granary had a good roof and did not leak; they grew less
frightened, and Elizabeth grew warm in Aunt Susan's arms and slept at
last. The rest lay long, listening to the angry blast, counting up their
losses and planning to reconstruct so as to fit the new circumstances. For
Luther another horse would be needed, while Nathan would have to build a
house and furnish it anew.

After the wind subsided the two men discussed in low tones the best way of
beginning on the morrow, and it was finally decided that Luther should go
out and appeal to the neighbours to gather together and assist in sorting
and saving such things as were worth it, and construct out of the broken
timbers a habitation which would shelter them till a better could be
erected. Fortunately, Luther had used none of the lumber of his last load,
and but little of the one he had bought before.

It was almost morning before they fell asleep, and the sun was shining
brightly before they awoke. As they emerged from the musty oats bin into
the fresh air, which had been purified by the wind and rain of the night
before, a curious sight met their eyes.

The house was indeed a wreck! Roof, side-walls, plaster, floor, and
furniture were mixed in one indistinguishable mass. The kitchen table
Nathan had mentioned stood as a centre-pole under a leaning pile of boards
and splintered scantlings, and had evidently done much to save the lives
of its owners when the roof fell. One end of the house lay, almost
uninjured, on the grass, the window panes unbroken and still in their
frames. Other windows had been hurled from the walls to which