clothes he entered the small sitting-room
with an effort at cheerfulness. The room was unusually comfortable for
a prairie homestead. The floor was stained, rugs were spread on the
polished boards, and Helen had drawn the curtains, which harmonized in
color with the big easy chairs. There were books in well-made cases, and
two or three good pictures on the painted walls, while a tall brass lamp
with a deep shade threw down a soft light. Helen had put a meal on the
table, and Festing sat down with a feeling that was half uneasiness and
half content.

While he ate he glanced at his wife. She wore a pretty and rather
fashionable dress that she kept for evenings. She looked fresh and
vigorous, although the summer had been hot and she worked hard; the
numerous petty difficulties she had to contend with had left no mark.
Her courage had always been evident, but she had shown a resolution
that Festing had not quite expected. He admired it, in a way, but it was
sometimes awkward when they took a different point of view.

There was a charm in coming back to a home like this when he was tired
and disappointed, but its taste and comfort were now disturbing. For one
thing, he had perhaps not made the best use of his privileges, and, for
another, Helen might have to be satisfied with a simpler mode of life.
It hurt him to think of this, because he had hoped to beautify the house
still further, so that she should miss nothing she had been used to in
the Old Country. It was obvious that she understood something of his
misfortune, for her look was sympathetic; but she let him finish his
supper before she began to talk.

"Your jacket is badly torn, Stephen," she remarked when he lighted his
pipe. "And how did you cut your face?"

"The hail was pretty fierce."

"It was terrible. We never had storms like that in England. I was
frightened when I thought of your being out on the prairie. But I don't
mean the small bruises. How did you cut your forehead?"

"Oh, that!" said Festing awkwardly. "I did it when I fell over a stove
at the settlement. The pipe came down and I imagine the edge struck me."

"You would have known if it hit you nor not."

"Well, it might have been the top of the stove. The molding was sharp."

"But how did you fall against the stove?" Helen persisted.

Festing did not want to tell her about the fight with Wilkinson. He had
resolved to say nothing about the matter until morning.

"I tripped. There was a cha