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effect petty economies. He must have more land! He must get to a point where he farmed on a scale which would double his net income from a decreasing margin of profit. Nicoll’s way was not his. He could not be satisfied with the fact that, if he killed a pig and a calf in the fall, there was meat in the house. To him, farming was an industry, not an occupation.
    Spring came. He was planning to add two rooms to the house. Yet, since it was a makeshift–for never would he be satisfied with a patchwork house–he was unwilling to go to the expense involved. Still, Ruth must be considered.
    One day, just before it was time to overhaul the implements needed for the spring work, he stopped in town and called on his sister. The doctor was at the store, to which a fully equipped dispensary and drug department had just been added, an extension of the business urgently needed since the necessity of getting prescriptions filled still diverted a good deal of trade to Somerville.
    As Abe entered, Mary mentioned the fact of her husband’s absence.
    â€œThat’s all right. It was you I wanted to see.”
    â€œSit down, Abe.”
    â€œHow does it look to you, Mary? Am I making progress?”
    Mary laughed. “You are the talk of the neighbourhood. Never was there a farmer like you, they say.”
    Abe felt comforted and encouraged. “Sometimes I am getting despondent. I am everlastingly short of money.”
    â€œIs not that very natural? You are always buying land and equipment.”
    â€œNot always…. I suppose it is foolish to worry.”
    â€œLook at what you have done. You have three quarter sections, clear, paid for. And such a barn.”
    â€œI have the money to add two bedrooms to the house. It does seem necessary, does it not?”
    â€œWell–”
    â€œThere isn’t room for Ruth to turn around in.”
    â€œDoes she complain?”
    â€œNo, no…I believe she resents the fact that Bill’s wife has a better place to live in than she. It’s only temporary, of course. The fact is, I hate to spend money on a makeshift which I’ll tear down in a year or two. I need an additional seeder and binder and God knows what.”
    Mary pondered. “I’ve always feared it. She doesn’t cooperate.”
    â€œI don’t say that,” Abe forestalled her hurriedly.
    â€œI know. I see what I see. Suppose I make another attempt?” She looked at Abe out of friendly eyes, from behind heavy-rimmed glasses.
    Abe mused dejectedly. Then he rose. “Perhaps–”
    â€œI’ll go to-morrow.”
    â€œDay after. I’ll have to go to Somerville. I’ve got to have that additional seeder before the work starts.”…
    On the last of March–there was still snow on the ground–Mary, in fur coat and close-fitting hat, alighted in the yard where Bill was sawing wood. He came to take horse and cutter. The three older children were playing about the granary. Frances, no doubt, was asleep.
    When Ruth opened to the knock, her lips tightened. She stepped back, inviting her sister-in-law by a gesture to enter; her very movement declined the other woman’s kiss.
    â€œBill tells me Abe went away,” Mary said.
    â€œI believe he did. He isn’t in.”
    With a glance Mary had swept the interior of the room. Plates were inverted on the oilcloth of the table; cups in their saucers. It was a small room for the family of four children. Ruth seemed enormous in girth. Mary removed her glasses to wipe them. It was hard to begin. She had planned to admire things to find the way to Ruth’s heart. But there was nothing to admire. She resolved upon perfect frankness.
    â€œRuth, I know it is hard. The fact is, Abe is living through a crisis.”
    Ruth stiffened. “He has told you, has he?”
    â€œYou may think I have no right to interfere.”
    â€œI do. Why does he not speak for himself? Why send