“Mrs. Roberts has gone away,” he said.  “I went over to see her to-day.  We were depending on her to come over and take care of your mother—­for a while—­and now she has gone, and there is not another woman between here and the Landing.”

“It’s no use trying, Robert,” Mrs. Wood said between her sobs; “I can’t stay—­I am so frightened.  I am beginning to see things—­and I know what it means.  There are black things in every corner—­trying to tell me something, grinning, jabbering things—­that are waiting for me; I see them everywhere I look.”

Mr. Wood sat down beside her, and patted her hand.

“I know, dear,” he said; “it’s hell, this lonely life.  It’s too much for any woman, and I’ll give it all up.  Better to live on two meals a day in a city than face things like this.  We wanted a home of our own, Millie,—­you remember how we used to talk,—­and we thought we had found it here—­good land and a running stream.  We have worked hard and it is just beginning to pay, but we’ll have to quit—­and I’ll have to work for some one else all my life.  It was too good to be true, Millie.”

He spoke without any bitterness in his voice, just a settled sadness, and a great disappointment.

Suddenly the old dog began to bark with strong conviction in every bark, which indicated that he had really found something at last that was worth mentioning.  There was a sudden jangle of sleighbells in the yard, and Mary’s father went hastily to the door and called to the dog to be quiet.  A woman walked into the square of light thrown on the snow from the open door, and asked if this was the place where a nurse was needed.

Mr. Wood reached out and took her big valise and brought her into the house, too astonished to speak.  He was afraid she might vanish.

She threw off her heavy coat before she spoke, and then, as she wiped the frost from her eyebrows, she explained:—­

“I am what is called a pioneer nurse, and I am sent to take care of your wife, as long as she needs me.  You see the women in Alberta have the vote now, and they have a little more to say about things than they used to have, and one of the things they are keen on is to help pioneer women over their rough places.  Your neighbor, Mrs. Roberts, on her way East, reported your wife’s case, and so I am here.  The Mounted Police brought me out, and I have everything that is needed.”

“But I don’t understand!” Mr. Wood began.

“No!” said the nurse; “it is a little queer, isn’t it?  People have spent money on pigs and cattle and horses, and have bonused railways and elevator companies, or anything that seemed to help the country, while the people who were doing the most for the country, the settlers’ wives, were left to live or die as seemed best to them.  Woman’s most sacred function is to bring children into the world, and if all goes well, why, God bless her!—­but when things go wrong—­God help her!  No one else was concerned at all.