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“Pretty strong, isn’t it?” shouted Mattie.

“Oh, the farmer’s life is the life for me, tra-la!” sang Herman, from his shelter behind the seat.

Mattie turned. “What do you think of Penelope this month?”

“She’s a-gitten there,” said Herman, pounding his shoe heels.

“She’s too smart for young Corey. She ought to marry a man like Bromfield. My, wouldn’t they talk!”

“Did y’ get the second bundle of magazines last Saturday?”

“Yes; and Dad found something in the Popular Science that made him mad, and he burned it.”

“Did ‘e? Tum-la-la! Oh, the farmer’s life for me!”

“Are you cold?” she asked Wallace.

He turned a purple face upon her. “No–not much.”

“I guess you better slip right down under the blankets,” she advised.

The wind blew gray out of the north–a wild blast which stopped the young student’s blood in his veins. He hated to give up, but he could no longer hold the blankets over his knees, so he slipped down into the corner of the box, with his back to the wind, while Mattie drew the blankets over his head, slapped the reins down on the backs of the snorting horses, and encouraged them with shouts like a man: “Get out o’ this, Dan! Hup there, Nellie!”

The wagon boomed and rattled. The floor of the box seemed beaten with a maul. The glimpses Wallace had of the land appalled him, it was so flat and gray and bare.

Herman sang at the top of his voice, and danced, and pounded his feet against the wagon box. “This ends it! If I can’t come home without freezing to death, I don’t come. I should have hired a rig, irrespective of you–“

The girl laughed. “Oh, you’re getting thin-blooded, Herman. Life in the city has taken the starch all out of you.”

“Better grow limp in a great city than freeze stiff in the country,” he replied.

An hour’s ride brought them into a yard before a large, gray-white frame house.

Herman sprang out to meet a tall old man with head muffled up. “Hello, Dad! Take the team. We’re just naturally froze solid–at least, I am. This is Mr. Stacey, the new teacher.”

“How de do? Run in; I’ll take the horses.”

Herman and Wallace stumbled toward the house, stiff and bent.

Herman flung his arms about a tall woman in the kitchen door. “Hello, muz!” he said. “This is Mr. Stacey, the new teacher.”

Mattie came in soon with a boyish rush, gleeful as a happy babe. She unwound the scarf from her head and neck, and hung up her cap and cloak like a man, but she gave her hair a little touch of feminine care, and came forward with both palms pressed to her burning cheeks.

“Did you suffer, child?” asked Mrs. Allen.

“No; I enjoyed it.”

Herman looked at Stacey. “I believe on my life she did.”

“Oh, it’s fun. I don’t get a chance to do anything so exciting very often.”

Herman clicked his tongue. “Exciting? Well, well!”

“You must remember things are slower here,” Mattie explained.

She came to light much younger than Stacey thought her. She was not eighteen, but her supple and splendid figure was fully matured. Her hair hung down her back in a braid, which gave a distinct touch of childishness to her.

“Sis, you’re still a-growin’,” Herman said, as he put his arm around her waist and looked up at her.

She seemed to realize for the first time that Stacey was a young man, and her eyes fell.

“Well, now, set up the chairs, child,” said Mrs. Allen.

When the young teacher returned from his cold spare room off the parlor the family sat waiting for him. They all drew up noisily, and Allen said:

“Ask the blessing, sir?”

Wallace said grace.

As Allen passed the potatoes he continued:

“My son tells me you are a minister of the gospel.”

“I have studied for it.”

“What denomination?”

“Tut, tut!” warned Herman. “Don’t start any theological rabbits to-night, Dad. With jaw swelled up you won’t be able to hold your own.”

“I’m a Baptist,” Stacey answered.