m has been clemmed up on times. But,
Jeanie, she never says nothing; she's that busy with t' things I can't
do. She 'lowed she'd stay and mind t' children till I get better a
bit. No, that's right. She hasn't much grub. But us uses very little,
and she never complains."

Two days later our good dogs brought in the rest of the family--the
babes to the warm welcome and plenty at the Children's Home, while one
of the pluckiest little women I have ever known, even in a country of
brave and self-reliant women, was carried into the hospital partially
paralyzed with beri-beri. She was so close to the gate from which
there is no returning that it took our nurses six months to wean her
back to another spell of usefulness.

It was no ordinary conundrum which vexed my mind when the house
surgeon at last announced, "These Moreau patients are well enough to
leave hospital," though I had realized that for good or evil the day
was near.

Neither had said a word about the future. The worst feature of sending
them out was the personal affection which their lessons in contentment
had kindled in us. How could this helpless family ever hope to keep
the wolf from the door. A council of war was called the same evening,
and some neighbours who well knew the dilemma in which we found
ourselves asked to be allowed to attend. There was an old shack in the
compound in which some workmen had once been housed, and which had
subsequently been used as a small store-house. It was proposed, in the
absence of funds, for all hands to assault this stronghold, and
convert it as far as possible into a habitable home.

Thus came into existence what developed later into the general
headquarters of the "triple entente."

To relieve the situation, one child was adopted by a childless,
well-to-do neighbour, and the other was left for education and care
with our little wards in the Home. Emile learned basket-work; Jeanie
took in washing. The Moreau exchequer once more was in funds. But two
difficulties soon presented themselves. There was a glut in our basket
market, and Emile found life without being able to move out of the
house almost more than a man born to the sea and the trail could
bear. Small dogs in civilization are wont to fill this gap. But alas,
"down North" small dogs are taboo--their imperious Eskimo congeners
having decided against them.

There happened to be at this time also under our care an Eskimo lad
from the Far North, whom we had pic