l people to keep her from falling into housekeeping
dry-rot. For thirty-six hours she had possessed herself, and in that time
she had renewed her youth and acquired a new outlook. As she stood looking
across the fields, her eyes fell on Nathan Hornby's chimney. The wind had
dropped so completely that the air had cleared of snow, and the curling
smoke from a freshly built fire arose in the frosty air, sending a thrill
of homesickness through her as she pictured the orderly kitchen in which
that fire was built. Was it orderly now that its guardian angel was gone?
The hideous cruelty of a neglect which kept her from knowing whether it
was well kept swept over her. Once she would have spent herself in
emotionalism and tears at remembrance of it, but Elizabeth had advanced.

"I'll go and see him to-morrow, or as soon as the roads are fit," was her
resolve. "Luther's right; he usually is."

The cattle calling from below brought her back to the necessities of the
hour. Laying hold of the frosty pitchfork she renewed her attack upon the
hay and continued till the racks were filled. By the time the ladder was
put away again her hands were stinging till it was impossible to work, and
she ran to the barn where she could put them against Patsie's flank while
she blew her warm breath upon them. Patsie was ticklish, and twitched her
loose hide nervously and gnawed at her feed-box with little squeals of
excitement. The feed-box was of two-inch lumber instead of the usual sort.
It was like all John did: so much attention put in one place there was no
time for the rest; well done, but much left undone. Everything about
John's barn was orderly and well built. There had been a time when she had
rejoiced at what seemed to be thrift, but to-day she saw it from a new
angle; Mr. Farnshaw had wastefully let his machinery rot and his stock
perish from cold, but here was wastefulness of another sort; Elizabeth
speculated on the cost of this barn and thought of the interest to be
paid.

On her way to the cow-stable where the little mother whose calf had fallen
a victim to the cold awaited her, she thought of the toolroom where she
had gone for her feed. A forty-dollar set of harness hung there: Carter's
harness had chains instead of leather tugs, and would outwear them several
times over. It was an orderly toolroom: the bridles occupied a row over
the collars, hames and back-bands came next, and on the other side of the
room, on six-inch spikes,