family. And she laughed again.

The barn was a sturdy building. Nor was it unpicturesque with its
solid, dovetailed lateral logs and heavy thatched roof. She saw that
it was built with the same care and finish as the house that was now
her home. She could not help wondering at the manner of man who had
designed and built it. She saw in it such deliberateness, such skill.
There was nothing here of the slap-dash prairie carpenter she had read
of--the man who flung up buildings simply for the needs of the moment.
These were buildings that might last for ages and still retain all
their original weather-proof comfort for the creatures they sheltered.
She felt pleased with this man Moreton Kenyon.

She passed round the angle of the building to the doorway, and paused
for a moment to admire the scheme of the farm. Every building fronted
on a largish open space, which was split by the waters of Yellow
Creek, beyond which lay the corrals. Here was forethought. The
operative part of the farm was hidden from the house, and every detail
of it was adjacent one to another. There was the wagon shed with a
wagon in it, and harvesting implements stabled in perfect order. There
were the hog-pens, the chicken-houses; the sheds for milch cows. There
was the barn and the miniature grain store; then, across the creek, a
well, with accompanying drinking-trough, corrals with lowing kine in
them; a branding cage. And beyond these she could see a vista of
fenced pastures.

As she stood reveling in the survey of her little possession the
thought recurred to her that this was hers, all hers. It was the home
of her family, and she laughed still more happily as she passed into
the barn.

Pushing the door open she found herself greeted in the half-light by a
chorus of equine whinnying such as she had never before experienced,
and the sound thrilled her. There stood the team of great Clydesdale
horses, their long, fiddle heads turned round staring at her with
softly inquiring eyes. She wanted to cry out in her joy, but,
restraining herself, walked up beside the nearest of them and patted
its glossy sides. Her touch was a caress which more than gave
expression to her delight.

Those were precious moments to Joan. They were so precious, indeed,
that she quite forgot the purpose which had brought her there. She
forgot that it was hers to tend and feed these great, helpless
creatures. It was enough for her to sit on the swinging bail between
the