he advantages of farm life for his growing family.
So when Pearl proposed it he was ready to rise and second the motion.

Nearly all the land around Millford had been homesteaded, and was
being successfully farmed, but there was one quarter-section in the
crook of the Souris that had been abandoned. Bill Cavers had entered
it some years before, and paid his ten dollar entrance fee, built a
little house on it, and farmed it indifferently for two or three
years; but poor Bill had to let it go at last. The numerous black
whiskey bottles around his miserable buildings told the story. The
land was good--it was only four miles from Millford--it could be
re-entered on payment of ten dollars. John Watson went out to see the
farm and came back well satisfied, so they decided to move out on it
as soon as the snow was gone.

By selling the house and lot they had enough money to buy a team of
horses, a waggon, and some machinery. For seed grain and everything
else that was needed Pearl would take her money. Aunt Kate protested
loudly against having Pearlie's money taken, and said if it wasn't
that Bill's stone had come so high she'd spend her own rather than
have Pearlie's touched. But Pearl stoutly insisted that helping her
family in this way was just what she wanted to have done with her
money.

Pearl had not seen the farm until she drove out with her father on
the first load. "A movin' gen'rally looks sort of sad, doesn't it,
Pa?" she said, as she settled herself on the dismembered beds. "But
there's nothin' sad about this movin'. We're not goin' because we
can't pay the rent, and there's goin' to be a notice of it in the
paper, too."

"How do you know that, acushla?" her father asked her.

"I wrote it myself. I was afraid Mr. Evans might forget. He's all
cluttered up wid politics, so I wrote it myself, and pinned it on his
door."

"What did you say, Pearlie?"

"I wrote this: Mr. and Mrs. John Watson and their interesting family
are leaving our midst to live on a farm, hoping to better their
circumstances and give the boys a chance to grow up decent."

"Faith, that's puttin' it plain, Pearlie," her father laughed.
"You're gettin' to be real handy wid the pen."

"I have a far lovelier one than that done, Pa; but I couldn't bear to
have it published in a newspaper, for every pryin' eye to see. So I
wrote it out in purple ink, and will just keep it in me scrapbook."

"What was it, Pearlie?"

"I wouldn't say it for ev