He wanted to help her--do something for her--make things easier for
her.

The afternoon wore on, with no loosening of the grip of the storm,
and Peter began to realize that he was a prisoner. He could have been
quite happy with Mrs. Paine and the children, even though the floor
of the kitchen was draughty and cold, the walls smoked, the place
desolate and poor; but the presence of his host, with his insulting
manners, soon grew unbearable. Mr. Paine sat in front of the
stove, smoking and spitting, abusing the country, the weather, the
Government, the church. Nothing escaped him, and everything was wrong.

A certain form of conceit shone through his words too, which increased
his listener's contempt. He had made many sharp deals in his time, of
which he was inordinately proud. Now he gloated over them. Fifteen
thousand dollars of horse notes were safely discounted in the bank,
so he did not care, he said, whether spring came or not. He had his
money. The bank could collect the notes.

Peter looked at him to see if he were joking. Surely no man with so
much money would live so poorly and have his wife and children so
shabbily dressed. Something of this must have shown in his face.

"I've made money," cried Sylvester Paine, spitting at the leg of the
stove; "and I've kept it--or spent it, just as I saw fit, and I did
not waste is on a fancy house. What's a house, anyway, but a place to
eat and sleep. I ain't goin' to put notions into my woman's head, with
any big house--she knows better than to ask it now. If she don't like
the house--the door is open--let her get out--I say. She can't take
the kids--and she won't go far without them."

He laughed unpleasantly: "That's the way to have them, and by gosh!
there's one place I admired the old Premier--in the way he roasted
those freaks of women who came askin' for the vote. I don't think much
of the Government, but I'm with them on that--in keepin' the women
where they belong."

"But why," interrupted Peter, with a very uneasy mind, "why shouldn't
women have something to say?"

"Are you married?" demanded his host.

"No, not yet," said Peter blushing.

"Well, when you're married--will you let your wife decide where you
will live? How you earn your living--and all that? No sir, I'll bet
you won't--you'll be boss, won't you? I guess so. Well, every man has
that right, absolutely. Here am I--I'm goin' to sell out here and buy
a hotel--there's good money in it, easy li