that promised to be good-tempered often
ended in a fury; and sometimes, when it seemed that nature could not be
more harsh, the wind would soften, a thaw come with rain, and then
another freeze with a snow-storm fiercer than before. Sometimes thunder
growled, a lost mood of summer in the upper air; sometimes a lagging
autumn bird was whirled through the freezing wind. And with it all the
Yankee man was full of spirit, almost happy, happy as the Yankee well
can be. His cool nature demanded a fight with the cold. The ears of all
his ancestors had been frozen in bleak New England. His religion had
been nurtured in a snow-drift, and unlike the breath of a freezing
rabbit, did not melt an inch of it. In the howl of a cutting wind he
heard a psalm to his vengeful Deity. And to-day the winter reminds him
that his army was victorious in the summer South. It was a fight of
Winter against Summer.

Milford had no idle time upon his hands. When not at work in the barn he
was trading among the farmers. They called him sharp, and this was a
compliment. He had beaten Steve Hardy in a trade, and this was praise.
An honest sort of a fellow is an eyesore to the genuine Yankee. He must
have other virtues--thrift. There was but one drawback in the Rollins
community: The land was too productive. It yielded a good living without
the full exercise of the Yankee quality. The Yankee is happiest when
strongly opposed. His religion was sweetest when he had to pray with one
eye open, sighting at the enemy, the dragoon sent by the king to break
up the Conventicle, or the American Indian come to burn the
meeting-house.

The winter had brought out Milford's strong points. He doubled his money
on a flock of sheep. Fathers spoke of it to their daughters. Mothers
asked their sons if they were acquainted with Mr. Milford. Mrs. Stuvic
was proud of him.

"Oh, I knowed what I was doin'," she said one night, sitting near the
hot stove in Milford's dining-room. "You can't fool me. I know lots, I
tell you. Do you know the Bunker girl? Well, she was at my house
yesterday, and she talked like she knowed you but wanted to know you
better. Now put down that newspaper and talk to me. Do you know her?"

"I think I've met her," said Milford.

"You think you have. Well, a woman has taken mighty little hold of a man
when he thinks he's met her. She'd make you a good wife; yes, you bet!"

"I don't want a wife, good or bad."

"Oh, you keep still. What the deuce a