irable gift of fortune.

Susan Hornby's eyes twinkled with delight. In the five years she had been
in Kansas she had never been able to persuade any one to read with her.
Here was a kindred spirit. She looked at the fifteen-year-old girl and was
anxious to know how it happened that she was interested in books at her
time of life.

"Do you like to read?"

The question was repeated, and once more she asked it before the child
heard her.

"I guess you do," she laughed, answering her own question. "We'll have
some good times before your father comes back for you. Come on to
breakfast now--the men are waiting."

Lizzie Farnshaw fell naturally into her improved surroundings. The
educating processes of reforming her language that year had also tended to
improve the girl in other ways and it was with her straight brown hair
gathered into neat braids, clean finger-nails, and a feeling of general
self-respect that she approached Susan Hornby's white-clothed table and
was introduced to Mr. Hornby and the hired men who were already seated
there.

"Right glad t' see you. I been feedin' th' colt. It's about as likely a
specimine as you be," was Nathan Hornby's salutation, and his handclasp
was as hearty as his stubby fingered, hairy hands could make it.

Lizzie slipped quietly into her chair at his side, and stole a glance up
at him again. All through the meal he found her eyes turning toward him
curiously, and at last he said good-naturedly:

"I'll know you next time whether you do me or not."

The remark was a random one and meant nothing at all, except that he had
been conscious of her close attention, but something in the way her gaze
was withdrawn showed that whatever she had been thinking she wished to
conceal it, and in the end it made Nathan Hornby really uncomfortable. The
fact of the matter was that Nathan's language did not fit his
surroundings. Susan Hornby's house was in advance of the country in which
they lived, while her husband fitted the pioneer life he had chosen. Of
this fact neither husband nor wife seemed to be conscious. Nathan was ten
years older than the woman he had married. In accepting him she had
accepted him as he was; later she had grown, but to her he remained the
same; he was just Nathan, and needed no analysis. They lived and loved,
and radiated the harmony which was theirs. The incongruities of their
union were evident to this child, who was supersensitive about grammatical
constructions,