The Land of Promise Part 26

One of the corners contained a battered suitcase and a nondescript pile of old clothes, the other was piled high with yellowing copies of what she saw was the Winnipeg _Free Press_ and a few old magazines.

"The library!" she said bitterly, and was surprised to find that she had spoken aloud. Insane people did that, she had heard. Was she----?

She ran over to a shelf that had escaped her notice, and the ill-fitting lamp chimney rattled as she moved. It was stacked high with the same empty syrup cans that at Gertie's did the duty of flower-pots. But these held flour, now quite mouldy, and various other staple supplies all spoiled and useless. She started to say "the larder," but, remembering in time, put her hand over her lips that she might only think it.

And now she had come to that other door. She must see what was there.

"Having a look at the shack?"

She gave a stifled scream and for a moment turned so pale that he hastily set down his pail and went over to her.

"I guess you're all tuckered out," he said kindly. "No wonder. You've had quite a little excitement the last day or two."

With a tremendous effort, Nora recovered her self-control. She walked steadily over to one of the packing-box stools and sat down.

"It was silly of me, but you don't know how you startled me. Don't think I usually have nerves, but--but the place was strange last night and I didn't sleep very well."

"Do you mind if I open the door a moment?" she asked after a short pause. "It isn't really cold and it looks so beautiful outside. One can't see anything out of the window, you know, it's so cobwebby. I must clean it--to-morrow."

Try as she would, her voice faltered on the last word.

She threw open the door and stood a moment looking out into the bright Canadian night brilliant with stars. It was all so big, so open, so free--and so lonely! You could fairly hear the stillness. But she must not think of that. Ah, there was the light that she had been told was the Sharp's farm. Somehow, it brought her comfort. But even as she watched, the light went out. She came in and closed the door.

CHAPTER XII

He was sitting on one of the stools, pipe in mouth, reading a newspaper he had already read in the train.

"Well, what do you think of the shack?"

"I don't know."

"I built it with my own hands. Every one of them logs was a tree I cut down myself. You wait till morning and I'll show you how they're joined together, at the corners. There's some neat work there, my girl, I guess."

"Yes? Oh, I was forgetting; here's the kettle." She brought it over to him from the shelf. He filled the kettle carefully from the pail while she stood and watched him. She took it from his hand and set it on the stove to boil.

"You'll find some tea in one of them cans on the shelf; leastways, there was some there when I come away. I reckon you're hungry."

"I don't think I am, very. I ate a very good supper on the train, you know."

"I'm glad you call that a good supper. I guess I could wrap up the amount you ate in a postage stamp."

"Well," she said with a smile, "you may be glad to learn that I haven't a very large appet.i.te."

"I have, then. Where's the loaf we got in Winnipeg this afternoon?"

"I'll get it."

"And the b.u.t.ter. You'll bake to-morrow, I reckon."

"You're a brave man--unless you've forgotten my first attempt at Eddie's," she said with a laugh as she took the loaf and b.u.t.ter from the bag.

For some reason her mood had completely changed. All her confidence in being perfectly able to take care of herself had returned. She had been frightened, badly frightened a moment ago at nothing. Nerves, nothing more. Nerves were queer things. It was because she hadn't slept last night. She was such a good sleeper naturally that a wakeful night affected her more than it did most people. The cool night air had completely restored her.

She hunted about until she found a knife, and with the loaf in one hand and the knife poised in the air asked:

"Shall I cut you some?"

"Yep."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Yep, please," she said with a gay smile.

"Oh!" he growled.

Still smiling, she cut several slices of bread and b.u.t.tered them. Going to the shelf, she found the teapot and shook some tea into it from one of the cans, measuring it carefully with her eye. His momentary ill humor, caused by her correcting him, vanished as he watched her.

"I guess it's about time you took your hat and coat off," he said with a chuckle.

As a matter of fact, she was not conscious that they were still on.

Without a word, she took them off and, having given her coat a little shake and a pat, looked about her for a place to put them. She ended finally by putting them both on the kitchen chair.

"You ain't terribly talkative for a woman, are you, my girl?"

"I haven't anything to say for the moment," said Nora.

"Well, I guess it's better to have a wife as talks too little than a wife as talks too much."

"I suppose absolute perfection is rare--in women, poor wretches," she said in the old ironic tone she had always used toward him while he was her brother's hired man.

"What's that?" he said sharply.

"I was only amusing myself with a reflection."

He checked an angry retort, and striding over to a nail in the wall, took off his coat and hung it up. Somehow, he looked larger than ever in his gray sweater. A sense of comfort and unaccustomed well-being restored him to good humor. Throwing himself into the rocker, he stretched out his long legs luxuriantly.

"I guess there's no place like home. You get a bit fed up with hiring out. Ed was O. K., I reckon, but it ain't like being your own boss."

"I should think it wouldn't be," said Nora quietly.

"Where does that door go?" she asked presently.