“I have, then.  Where’s the loaf we got in Winnipeg this afternoon?”

“I’ll get it.”

“And the butter.  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 butter 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 buttered 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.

“That?  Oh, into the bedroom.  Like to have a look?”

“No.”

“No what?” he said quickly.