loom
that oppressed her so much of late had cost him many anxious hours.

"Besides," she continued, "we are well off to what some of them are.
We have a good supply of vegetables, and one of the cows will milk
most of the winter, and we have half a dozen laying hens. Then you
will be able to shoot a rabbit now and again."

"Yes, we'll be all right," he agreed. "Perhaps I will get a day or
two out at the lake. They say there is fine fishing all winter where
some of the springs keep the ice open. And then, there's always a
chance to pick off a deer."

So, in high spirits, they planned for their winter. There were long
hours, and little diversion, and the desolation of bleak, snowbound
prairies on every side, but through it all they kept up their courage
and their hopefulness. Mary spent much time with her needle, from
which John, when he felt she was applying herself too closely,
beguiled her to a game of checkers or an hour with one of their few
but valued books. To supplement their reading matter Mrs. Morrison
sent over her little library, which consisted of "The Life of David
Livingstone" and a bound number of "The Gospel Tribune." And there
were frequent visits and long evenings spent about a cosy fire, when
the Morrisons, or the Grants, or the Rileses, dropped in to while
away the time. The little sod house was warm and snug, and as the men
played checkers while the women sewed, what cared the pioneers for
the snow and the cold and the wind whistling across the plains?

***

At last came the crisis. At four in the afternoon Harris kissed his
wife an affectionate farewell, hitched his horses to the sleigh, and
started out posthaste for Plainville. The sun, hanging low to the
western horizon, was banded by a great ring of yellow and gold,
bulging into two dull reflected glows at either side. A ground-drift
of snow whipped keenly across the hard crust, and the north-west wind
had a rip to it, but overhead the sky was clear and the blue
amazingly deep. Harris drove by way of the Morrisons, where a few low
words sent Tom to the stable at a trot to hitch his own team, while
the good wife bustled about in the "room," almost overwhelmed with
the importance of her mission.

"I will go for the doctor, Jack, and you go back and take the wife
with you," was Morrison's kindly offer, but Harris would not agree.
It was dark by this time, and he felt that he could trust no one else
to make the journey to Plainville. Besi