ound himself repeating the minister's
words. Could this be what he meant by harsh proceedings? Certainly it
was harsh enough taking away a man's crop after all his hard work.

Sam was full of self-pity. There were very few men who had ever been
treated as badly as he felt himself to be.

"Maybe there'll only be a streak of it hailed out," Tom said, breaking
in on his father's dismal thoughts.

"You'll see in the mornin'," his father growled, and Tom went back to
bed.

When Pearl woke it was with the wind blowing in upon her; the morning
breeze fragrant with the sweetness of the flowers and the ripening
grain. The musty odours had all gone, and she felt life and health in
every breath. The blackbirds were twittering in the oats behind the
house, and the rising sun was throwing long shadows over the field.
Scattered glass lay on the floor.

"I knew the dear Lord would fix the gurms," Pearl said as she dressed,
laughing to herself. But her face clouded in a moment. What about the
poppies?

Then she laughed again. "There I go frettin' again. I guess the Lord
knows they're, there and He isn't going to smash them if Polly really
needs them."

She dressed herself hastily and ran down the ladder and around behind
the cookhouse, where a strange sight met her eyes. The cookhouse roof
had been blown off and placed over the poppies, where it had sheltered
them from every hailstone.

Pearl looked under the roof. The poppies stood there straight and
beautiful, no doubt wondering what big thing it was that hid them from
the sun.

When Tom and his father went out in the early dawn to investigate the
damage done by the storm, they found that only a narrow strip through
the field in front of the house had been touched.

The hail had played a strange trick; beating down the grain along this
narrow path, just as if a mighty roller had come through it, until it
reached the house, on the other side of which not one trace of damage
could be found.

"Didn't we get off lucky?" Tom exclaimed "and the rest of the grain is
not even lodged. Why, twenty-five dollars would cover the whole loss,
cookhouse roof and all."

His father was looking over the rippling field, green-gold in the rosy
dawn. He started uncomfortably at Tom's words.

Twenty-five dollars!

CHAPTER XV

INASMUCH

After sundown one night Pearl's resolve was carried into action. She
picked a shoe-box full of poppies, wrapping the stems carefully in wet
newsp