she had had all the people she had hoped to have about her board to
eat it, and she was so sunny and natural as she served it that John did
not even guess that she was governing herself consciously. She stayed at
home the next Sunday and the next, and John Hunter was unaware that she
was endeavouring to surrender herself to his will.

"She'll get over wanting to run somewhere all the time," he told his
mother, and Mrs. Hunter, to whom these people were not pleasing, agreed
with him, and thought that it was just as well if it were so, not
realizing that the girl lived alone in their house and that she might have
an attitude toward these people distinctly different from theirs.

This winter, like the preceding one, passed with Elizabeth at home. There
was no peace to be had if she thought of going anywhere for any purpose
whatever. Elizabeth went nowhere and required few clothes. The cold the
child had caught on that first trip to Luther's was sufficient excuse to
prevent any further foolishness on the part of its mother. However, a trip
to town was in waiting for Elizabeth Hunter and was proposed by John
Hunter himself.

There had been a "warm spell" in the month of February and John had asked
Elizabeth to help him with the pump in the barnyard, which had been
working badly for days. It was Saturday evening, and Jake and the other
hired man had been granted time off that day; the pump had refused to work
at all after they were gone, and with a hundred cattle waiting for water
it was necessary to impress any one available with the duty of helping.
Elizabeth was more than willing to help: it meant a couple of hours out of
doors. They had worked industriously and their efforts were about crowned
with success when Mrs. Hunter came out to them with the baby wrapped in a
warm shawl. John tossed aside the extra piece of leather he had cut from
the top of an old boot and fitted the round piece in his hand about the
sucker.

"Now, mother, you shouldn't bring that child out here; You'll have him
sick on our hands again," he said.

"Oh, lots of children go out of doors in winter. I took you out whenever I
wanted to, and you've lived to tell the tale," his mother said easily,
seating herself on the end of the trough.

"Well, I don't want anything to happen to him for a few days, I can tell
you. I want you to keep him and let Elizabeth go in to town with me and
sign the mortgage on this eighty, Monday," John replied, examining t