ument which followed, I began to sense in him
a spirit of restlessness, a growing discontent which covered his
handsome face with a deepening shadow. He disliked being tied down to
the dull life of the farm, and his horse-power threshing machine no
longer paid him enough to compensate for the loss of time and care on
the other phases of his industry. His voice was still glorious and he
played the violin when strongly urged, though with a sense of
dissatisfaction.

He and mother and Aunt Deborah sang _Nellie Wildwood_ and _Lily Dale_
and _Minnie Minturn_ just as they used to do in the coulee, and I forgot
my disgrace and the pain of my blistered feet in the rapture of that
exquisite hour of blended melody and memory. The world they represented
was passing and though I did not fully realize this, I sensed in some
degree the transitory nature of this reunion. In truth it never came
again. Never again did these three brothers meet, and when they said
good-bye to us next morning, I wondered why it was, we must be so widely
separated from those we loved the best.

CHAPTER XV

Harriet Goes Away

Girls on the Border came to womanhood early. At fifteen my sister
Harriet considered herself a young lady and began to go out to dances
with Cyrus and Albert and Frances. She was small, moody and silent, and
as all her interests became feminine I lost that sense of comradeship
with which we used to ride after the cattle and I turned back to my
brother who was growing into a hollow-chested lanky lad--and in our
little sister Jessie we took increasing interest. She was a joyous
child, always singing like a canary. SHE was never a "trial."

Though delicate and fair and pretty, she manifested a singular
indifference to the usual games of girls. Contemptuous of dolls, she
never played house so far as I know. She took no interest in sewing, or
cooking, but had a whole yard full of "horses," that is to say, sticks
of varying sizes and shapes. Each pole had its name and its "stall" and
she endlessly repeated the chores of leading them to water and feeding
them hay. She loved to go with me to the field and was never so happy as
when riding on old Jule.--Dear little sister, I fear I neglected you at
times, turning away from your sweet face and pleading smile to lose
myself in some worthless book. I am comforted to remember that I did
sometimes lift you to the back of a real horse and permit you to ride "a
round," chattering like a