Sammy looked out of the harness-room window.  “There he is,” he announced, in an awed whisper.  He and Nanny peeped around the casing.  Mrs. Penn kept on about her work.  The children watched Adoniram leave the new horse standing in the drive while he went to the house door.  It was fastened.  Then he went around to the shed.  That door was seldom locked, even when the family was away.  The thought how her father would be confronted by the cow flashed upon Nanny.  There was a hysterical sob in her throat.  Adoniram emerged from the shed and stood looking about in a dazed fashion.  His lips moved; he was saying something, but they could not hear what it was.  The hired man was peeping around a corner of the old barn, but nobody saw him.

Adoniram took the new horse by the bridle and led him across the yard to the new barn.  Nanny and Sammy slunk close to their mother.  The barn doors rolled back, and there stood Adoniram, with the long mild face of the great Canadian farm horse looking over his shoulder.

Nanny kept behind her mother, but Sammy stepped suddenly forward, and stood in front of her.

Adoniram stared at the group.  “What on airth you all down here for?” said he.  “What’s the matter over to the house!”

“We’ve come here to live, father,” said Sammy.  His shrill voice quavered out bravely.

“What”—­Adoniram sniffed—­“what is it smells like cookin’?” said he.  He stepped forward and looked in the open door of the harness-room.  Then he turned to his wife.  His old bristling face was pale and frightened.  “What on airth does this mean, mother?” he gasped.

“You come in here, father,” said Sarah.  She led the way into the harness-room and shut the door.  “Now, father,” said she, “you needn’t be scared.  I ain’t crazy.  There ain’t nothin’ to be upset over.  But we’ve come here to live, an’ we’re goin’ to live here.  We’ve got jest as good a right here as new horses an’ cows.  The house wa’n’t fit for us to live in any longer, an’ I made up my mind I wa’n’t goin’ to stay there.  I’ve done my duty by you forty year, an’ I’m goin’ to do it now; but I’m goin’ to live here.  You’ve got to put in some windows and partitions; an’ you’ll have to buy some furniture.”

“Why, mother!” the old man gasped.

“You’d better take your coat off an’ get washed—­there’s the wash-basin—­an’ then we’ll have supper.”

“Why, mother!”

Sammy went past the window, leading the new horse to the old barn.  The old man saw him, and shook his head speechlessly.  He tried to take off his coat, but his arms seemed to lack the power.  His wife helped him.  She poured some water into the tin basin, and put in a piece of soap.  She got the comb and brush, and smoothed his thin gray hair after he had washed.  Then she put the beans, hot bread, and tea on the table.  Sammy came in, and the family drew up.  Adoniram sat looking dazedly at his plate, and they waited.