spring, and was
better and more contented for it. But she and her sisters sent many an
anxious glance forward to the harvest-time.

They did not have to wait so long, however. Before the harvest-time
their affairs were settled. An opportunity, which those capable of
judging thought very favourable, occurred for selling it; and it was
sold. They might have occupied the house for the winter; but this would
only have been to delay that which delay would make no easier. It was
wiser and better in every way to look out for a home at once.

About six miles from the farm, in the neighbourhood where Effie's school
was, there stood on the edge of a partially-cleared field a small
log-house, which had been for several months uninhabited. Towards this
the eyes of the elder sister had often turned during the last few weeks.
Once, on her way home from school, she went into it. She was alone;
and though she would have been very unwilling to confess it, the
half-hour she passed there was as sorrowful a half-hour as she had ever
passed in her life. For Effie was by no means so wise and courageous as
Christie, in her sisterly admiration, was inclined to consider her.
Looking on the bare walls and defective floors and broken windows, her
heart failed her at the thought of ever making that a home for her
brother and sisters.

Behind the house lay a low, rocky field, encumbered with logs and
charred stumps, between which bushes and a second growth of young trees
were springing. A low, irregular fence of logs and branches, with a
stone foundation, had once separated the field from the road; but it was
mostly broken-down now, and only a few traces of what had been a garden
remained. It was not the main road that passed the house, but a
cross-road running between the main roads; and the place had a lonely
and deserted look, which might well add to the depression which anxiety
and uncertainty as to their future had brought on Effie. No wonder that
very troubled and sad was the half-hour which she passed in the dreary
place.

"I wish I hadna spoken to Aunt Elsie about this place," she said to
herself. "She seemed quite pleased with the thought of coming here; but
we could never live in this miserable hovel. What could I be thinking
about? How dreary and broken-down it is!"

There were but two rooms and a closet or two on the ground-floor.
Above, there might be another made--perhaps two; but that part of the
house was quite u