breakfast table:

"Well, I think that Mary Bell will be able to attend to the work after
today, David. I guess I'll go home tonight."

David's face clouded over.

"Well, I s'pose we oughtn't to keep you any longer, Josephine. I'm
sure it's been awful good of you to stay this long. I don't know what
we'd have done without you."

"You're welcome," said Josephine shortly.

"Don't go for to walk home," said David; "the snow is too deep. I'll
drive you over when you want to go."

"I'll not go before the evening," said Josephine slowly.

David went out to his work gloomily. For three weeks he had been
living in comfort. His wants were carefully attended to; his meals
were well cooked and served, and everything was bright and clean. And
more than all, Josephine had been there, with her cheerful smile and
companionable ways. Well, it was all ended now.

Josephine sat at the breakfast table long after David had gone out.
She scowled at the sugar-bowl and shook her head savagely at the
tea-pot.

"I'll have to do it," she said at last.

"I'm so sorry for him that I can't do anything else."

She got up and went to the window, looking across the snowy field to
her own home, nestled between the grove of firs and the orchard.

"It's awful snug and comfortable," she said regretfully, "and I've
always felt set on being free and independent. But it's no use. I'd
never have a minute's peace of mind again, thinking of David living
here in dirt and disorder, and him so particular and tidy by nature.
No, it's my duty, plain and clear, to come here and make things
pleasant for him--the pointing of Providence, as you might say. The
worst of it is, I'll have to tell him so myself. He'll never dare to
mention the subject again, after what I said to him that night he
proposed last. I wish I hadn't been so dreadful emphatic. Now I've got
to say it myself if it is ever said. But I'll not begin by quoting
poetry, that's one thing sure!"

Josephine threw back her head, crowned with its shining braids of
jet-black hair, and laughed heartily. She bustled back to the stove
and poked up the fire.

"I'll have a bit of corned beef and cabbage for dinner," she said,
"and I'll make David that pudding he's so fond of. After all, it's
kind of nice to have someone to plan and think for. It always did seem
like a waste of energy to fuss over cooking things when there was
nobody but myself to eat them."

Josephine sang over her work all day,