d call
'kip, kip, kip.' That's the way my wife used--" He stopped in a little
embarrassment.

"I'd be glad if I could do everything as she did," said Alida gently.
"It has grown clearer every day how hard her loss was to you. If
you'll tell me what she did and how she did things--" and she hesitated.

"That's good of you, Alida," he replied gratefully. Then, with his
directness of speech, he added, "I believe some women are inclined to
be jealous even of the dead."

"You need never fear to speak of your wife to me. I respect and honor
your feelings--the way you remember her. There's no reason why it
should be otherwise. I did not agree to one thing and expect another,"
and she looked him straight in the eyes.

He dropped them, as he stood leaning against the bin in the shadowy old
barn, and said, "I didn't think you or anyone would be so sensible. Of
course, one can't forget quickly--"

"You oughtn't to forget," was the firm reply. "Why should you? I
should be sorry to think you could forget."

"I fear I'm not like to make you sorry," he replied, sighing. "To tell
you the truth--" he added, looking at her almost commiseratingly, and
then he hesitated.

"Well, the truth is usually best," she said quietly.

"Well, I'll tell you my thought. We married in haste, we were almost
strangers, and your mind was so distracted at the time that I couldn't
blame you if you forgot what--what I said. I feared--well, you are
carrying out our agreement so sensibly that I want to thank you. It's
a relief to find that you're not opposed, even in your heart, that I
should remember one that I knew as a little child and married when I
was young."

"I remember all you said and what I said," she replied, with the same
direct, honest gaze. "Don't let such thoughts trouble you any more.
You've been kinder and more considerate than I ever expected. You have
only to tell me how she did--"

"No, Alida," he said quietly, obeying a subtle impulse. "I'd rather you
would do everything your own way--as it's natural for you. There,
we've talked so long that it's too late to feed the chickens tonight.
You can begin in the morning."

"Oh!" she cried, "and you have all your other work to do. I've
hindered rather than helped you by coming out."

"No," he replied decidedly, "you've helped me. I'll be in before very
long."

She returned to the house and busied herself in preparations for
supper. She was very thoughtful, and at l