....

I had a short letter from Dinky-Dunk to-day, asking me to send on a
package of papers which he had left in a pigeon-hole of his desk here.
It was a depressingly non-committal little note, without a glimmer of
warmth between the lines. I'm afraid there's a certain ugly truth
which will have to be faced some day. But I intend to stick to the
ship as long as the ship can keep afloat. I am so essentially a family
woman that I can't conceive of life without its home circle. Home,
however, is where the heart is. And it seems to take more than one
heart to keep it going. I keep reminding myself that I have my
children at the same time that I keep asking myself why my children
are not enough, why they can't seem to fill my cup of contentment as
they ought. Now that their father is so much away, a great deal of
their training is falling on my shoulders. And I must, in some way, be
a model to them. So I'll continue to show them what a Penelope I can
be. Perhaps, after all, they will prove our salvation. For our
offspring ought to be the snow-fences along the wind-harried rails of
matrimony. They should prevent drifting along the line, and from
terminal to lonely terminal should keep traffic open ... I have
to-night induced Poppsy to write a long and affectionate letter to her
_pater_, telling him all the news of Casa Grande. Perhaps it will
awaken a little pang in the breast of her absent parent.

_Monday the Twenty-Fifth_

I have aroused the ire of the Dour Man. He has sent me a message
strongly disapproving of my conduct. He even claims that I've
humiliated him. I never dreamed, when that movie-man with the camera
followed me about at the plowing-match, that my husband would wander
into a Calgary picture-house and behold his wife in driving gauntlets
and Stetson mounted on a tractor and twiddling her fingers at the
camera-operator, just to show how much at home she felt! Dinky-Dunk
must have experienced a distinctly new thrill when he saw his own wife
come riding through that pictorial news weekly. He would have
preferred not recognizing me, I suppose. But there I was, duly named
and labeled--and hence the ponderous little note of disapproval.

But I'm not going to let Duncan start a quarrel over trivialities like
this. I intend to sit tight. There'd be little use in argument,
anyway, for Duncan would only ignore me as the predatory tom-cat
ignores the foolishly scolding robin. I'm going to be a regular
malla