away from the little
station of his native town was this verse, lustily shouted from a
group of schoolmates assembled to bid him good-bye:

"Oh, Obadiah, you're going West,
Where the prairie winds don't have no rest,
You'll have to waddle your level best.
Good-bye, my lover, good-bye!"

Ill-fortune attended the Waddles in their western home. To be sure,
they had their rich, broad acres, with never a stone or a stump to
hinder the smooth cutting plow, but a frightful midsummer storm in the
second year literally wiped out crops and cattle, and left them with
their bare lives in their lowly sod house.

"Drought first year, tornado second. If next year's a failure, we'll
go back--if we can raise money enough to go with. Three times and then
out!" said Mr. Waddle.

Mrs. Waddle broke down and wept. It scared the children to learn that
their mother could cry--their mother, who was always so bright and
cheerful and who always laughed away their griefs!

Mr. Waddle was scared, too. He bent down and patted her shoulder--his
favourite way of soothing beast or human being.

"Now, Mary, Mary! Don't you go back on us. We can stand everything as
long as you are all right. Don't feel bad! We'll pick up again.
There's time enough yet to grow turnips and fodder corn."

"But what will we fodder it to?" wailed Mrs. Waddle.

Mr. Waddle could not answer, thinking of his splendid horses, and of
his pure Jersey cows that would never answer to his call again.

"Well, I am ashamed of myself!" said Mrs. Waddle, after a few moments,
bravely drying her eyes. "And I'm wicked, too! I've just wished that
something would happen so we'd have to go back East, and it's
happened; and we might have all been killed. And I'm going to stop
just where I am. I don't care where we live--or how we live--so long
as we are all together--and well--and there's a crust in the house and
water to drink."

Rising, she seized the broom and began vigorously to sweep together
the leaves and grass which the cyclone had cast in through the open
door.

"I declare, Mary!" said Mr. Waddle. "Do you mean to say you've been
homesick all this time?"

"I'd give more for the north side of one of those old Vermont hills
than I would for the whole prairie!" was the emphatic reply. "But I'm
not going to say another single word."

Mr. Waddle felt a thrill of comfort in knowing he was not alone in his
yearning for the old home. It was singular that these tw