“Fetch me those pants of yours,” said Gertie to Trotter.

He left the room, to return shortly with the desired articles, exhibiting a yawning tear in one of the knees.  Gertie at once set about mending them in the same workmanlike manner that she did everything.

“Doesn’t she ever rest?” asked Nora in an undertone of Hornby.

“Never,” he whispered.  “Her one recreation is abusing me.  I fancy you’ll come in for a little of the same medicine.  She’s planning an amusing winter, I can see that already.”

“I think, if I may, I’ll ask you to excuse me,” said Nora, rising abruptly.  “I’m a little tired after my long journey.  Oh, how good it’ll be to find oneself in a real bed again.”

“I’m sure you must be,” said her brother.  “Nora knows where her room is?” he said, turning to his wife.

“She was up before supper; she can’t very well have forgotten the way.  The house is small after what she’s been accustomed to, I dare say.”

“Thank you, I can find it again easily,” said Nora hastily.  “I’ll see you at breakfast, Eddie?” She crossed over to where Gertie was sewing busily.  “Good night—­Gertie.  I hope you will not find me too stupid about learning things.  You’ll find me willing, anyway,” she said almost humbly.

Gertie looked up at her with real kindness.

“Wllling’s half the battle,” she said in softened tone.

As Nora was leaving the room, satisfied at having done her part as far as Gertie was concerned, she was recalled by Taylor’s drawling tone.

“Oh, Miss Nora, you’re forgetting something.”

“Am I?  What?”

“You’re forgetting to say ‘good night’ to me.”

“Why, so I am!”

She could hear them laugh as she left the room.  And so ended the first day in her brother’s house.

Breakfast the next morning was of the most hurried description.  Gertie herself did not sit down until the men had gone, being chiefly occupied with baking some sort of hot cakes which were new to Nora, who confined herself to an egg and some tea.  She secretly longed for some toast; but as no one else seemed to have any, she refrained from making her wants known.  Perhaps later, when she was more familiar with the ways of this strange household, she would be permitted to make some for herself when she wanted it.

While her sister-in-law was eating her breakfast, Nora stood looking out of the window at the vast expanse of snow-covered country with never a house in sight.  Already there were signs that Taylor’s prophecy would be fulfilled.  The sun, which had been up only a few hours, shone brightly, and already the air had lost much of its sharpness.  It was distinctly warmer than it had been the day before.

At the first sign that Gertie had finished her breakfast, Nora began to gather the things together for washing, wisely not waiting to ask permission.  If possible, Gertie seemed to be less inclined for conversation in the early morning than at night.  They finished the task in unbroken silence.  When the last dish had been put away, Gertie spoke: