nother thing; this draining is a business proposition
and we're partners in that sense, too. Now we'll tell your mother."

They told Mrs. Winter at lunch, and Jim saw that she hesitated and
looked at Carrie. The girl's face was, however, inscrutable, and she
gave no sign. Jim felt puzzled. He thought Mrs. Winter liked Langrigg
and she had developed since she came. She was not so thin, she had
lost her careworn look and gained a certain ease of manner. At the
store, she had been highly-strung and restless; now she was happily
calm. Moreover, she was making her influence felt and quietly taking
control. Jim had noted that things were done better and cost him less.
He wanted her to stay, because he thought she needed a rest and he
would miss her if she went.

"Well," she said, doubtfully, "if you are all satisfied----"

"I am satisfied," Jim declared. "I imagine Jake is, but Carrie hasn't
told us yet."

Carrie gave him a quick glance and he thought her color was rather high.

"You are kind," she said. "Mother looks younger than she has looked
for long and perhaps we had better accept. But it is a big undertaking
to drain the marsh. When do you begin?"

"I thought we might begin this afternoon. However, I don't expect to
drain it all right off. There's a pretty dry piece where I mean to
start. I reckon I've money enough for the experiment, and can develop
my plans afterwards when I see what the first lot costs."

Carrie laughed and the hint of strain all had felt vanished. "You are
certainly the hustling Jim we knew," she said. "I feel as if we were
back in the woods."

After lunch Jim crossed the marsh with Jake and stopped where a ridge
of higher ground broke off at the edge of a muddy creek. In the
corner, partly sheltered by a bank of gorse, stood a small white house
with a roof of rusty iron where the thatch had been. The whitewash had
fallen off in places, exposing a rough, granulated wall, for the house
was a dabbin, built of puddled clay. A window was broken and the door
hung crookedly. Except for a few rows of withered potatoes, the garden
was occupied by weeds. Three or four shellducks, hatched from wild
birds' eggs, paddled about the creek.

"Shanks' dabbin; his father squatted here," Jim remarked. "I reckon
I'm going to have trouble with the fellow."

He opened the broken gate and two men came out. One was bent and moved
awkwardly, but Jake imagined that rheumatism rather than