the problem of their future. Libby Anne's illness, in spite
of the neighbours' and the doctor's kindness, had made a hole in the
two hundred dollars the Watsons had given her. She still had some
money left from her share of the crop, but she would need that for
new clothes for herself and Libby Anne; there would be the price of
their tickets, and the other expenses of the journey, and she must
save enough to buy her ticket back to Manitoba.

Of course, there were still the two cows and the hens, which the
neighbours had kindly taken care of for her, and there was some old
machinery, but she did not expect that she would get much from the
sale of it.

The first day that Libby Anne was able to walk, Dr. Clay came out to
see her, and brought to Mrs. Cavers a letter from the new tenant who
had rented the Steadman farm. The letter stated that the writer was
anxious to buy all her furniture, machinery and stock, and wanted to
make her an offer of three hundred dollars cash for them.

Mrs. Cavers read the letter with astonishment. She had never hoped
for such a price. "Now, doctor," she said, "you've been to me one of
the best friends any one ever had. Tell me one thing--is Sandy Braden
paying part of this?"

Dr. Clay was prepared for the question and answered evasively. "I'll
bring the man here to see you--he's an old Indiana farmer with lots
of money, and you know your implements are in very good shape. I went
out with him to the farm, and together we figured out what the stuff
was worth. Here is the list; he is perfectly satisfied if you are."

Mrs. Cavers shook her head doubtfully. "I know that the stuff is not
worth more than half that amount, and I know very well that either
you or Mr. Braden has fixed this up for me to let me still feel
independent and have my trip back home. I know that, but I'm going to
take it, doctor, without a word. I am not even going to try to thank
you. I haven't seen my mother or any of my own people for twelve
years. It has been my sweetest dream that some day I would go back
home, and now it looks as if the dream were coming true. I am like a
little hungry boy who has been looking at a peach in a shop window
for days and days and days, desiring without hope, when suddenly
someone comes out and puts it in his hand--he will quite likely run
away with it without so much as thanking his kind friend, but he's
grateful just the same. That's the way it is with me, doctor; I am
grateful, too, s