It seemed to her all through the spring months that she heard nothing but the halloos and the noises of saws and hammers.  The new barn grew fast.  It was a fine edifice for this little village.  Men came on pleasant Sundays, in their meeting suits and clean shirt bosoms, and stood around it admiringly.  Mrs. Penn did not speak of it, and Adoniram did not mention it to her, although sometimes, upon a return from inspecting it, he bore himself with injured dignity.

“It’s a strange thing how your mother feels about the new barn,” he said, confidentially, to Sammy one day.

Sammy only grunted after an odd fashion for a boy; he had learned it from his father.

The barn was all completed ready for use by the third week in July.  Adoniram had planned to move his stock in on Wednesday; on Tuesday he received a letter which changed his plans.  He came in with it early in the morning.  “Sammy’s been to the post-office,” said he, “an’ I’ve got a letter from Hiram.”  Hiram was Mrs. Penn’s brother, who lived in Vermont.

“Well,” said Mrs. Penn, “what does he say about the folks?”

“I guess they’re all right.  He says he thinks if I come up country right off there’s a chance to buy jest the kind of a horse I want.”  He stared reflectively out of the window at the new barn.

Mrs. Penn was making pies.  She went on clapping the rolling-pin into the crust, although she was very pale, and her heart beat loudly.

“I dun’ know but what I’d better go,” said Adoniram.  “I hate to go off jest now, right in the midst of hayin’, but the ten-acre lot’s cut, an’ I guess Rufus an’ the others can git along without me three or four days.  I can’t get a horse round here to suit me, nohow, an’ I’ve got to have another for all that wood-haulin’ in the fall.  I told Hiram to watch out, an’ if he got wind of a good horse to let me know.  I guess I’d better go.”

“I’ll get out your clean shirt an’ collar,” said Mrs. Penn, calmly.

She laid out Adoniram’s Sunday suit and his clean clothes on the bed in the little bedroom.  She got his shaving-water and razor ready.  At last she buttoned on his collar and fastened his black cravat.

Adoniram never wore his collar and cravat except on extra occasions.  He held his head high, with a rasped dignity.  When he was all ready, with his coat and hat brushed, and a lunch of pie and cheese in a paper bag, he hesitated on the threshold of the door.  He looked at his wife, and his manner was defiantly apologetic.  “If them cows come to-day, Sammy can drive ’em into the new barn,” said he; “an’ when they bring the hay up, they can pitch it in there.”

“Well,” replied Mrs. Penn.

Adoniram set his shaven face ahead and started.  When he had cleared the door-step, he turned and looked back with a kind of nervous solemnity.  “I shall be back by Saturday if nothin’ happens,” said he.

“Do be careful, father,” returned his wife.