ng as instinct still. And
there is another possible prong of truth to this repression of their
characteristic cries at such times of frost: then it was in ages past
that the species which preyed on them grew most ravenous and far
ranging. The silence of the modern stable in a way takes the place of
that primeval silence which was a law of safety in the bleak
fastnesses, hunted over by flesh eating prowlers. It is the prudent
noiselessness of many a species to-day, as the deer and the moose.

The sheep, having enjoyed little shelter beside the hayrick, had
encountered the worst of the storm. When David appeared in the stable
lot, they beheld him at once; for their faces were bunched expectantly
toward the yard gate through which he must emerge. But they spoke not a
word to one another or to him as they hurried slipping forward. The man
looked them over pityingly, yet with humor; for they wore many
undesirable pendants of glass and silver dangling under their bellies
and down their tails.

"You shall come into the barn this night," he vowed within himself.
"I'll make a place for you this day."

Little did he foresee what awful significance to him lay wrapped in
those simple words. Breakfast was ready when, carrying his customary
basket of cobs for his mother, he returned to the house. One good
result at least the storm had wrought for the time: it drew the members
of the household more closely together, as any unusual event--danger,
disaster--generally does. So that his father, despite his outburst of
anger the night previous, forgot this morning his wrongs and
disappointments and relaxed his severity. During the meal he had much
to recount of other sleets and their consequences. He inferred similar
consequences now if snow should follow, or a cold snap set in: no work
in the fields, therefore no hemp-breaking, and therefore delay in
selling the crop; the difficulty of feeding and watering the stock; no
hauling along the mud roads, and little travel of any sort between
country and town; the making of much cord wood out of the fallen
timber, with plenty of stuff for woodpiles; the stopping of mill wheels
on the frozen creeks, and scarcity of flour and meal.

"The meal is nearly out now," said David's mother. "The negroes waste
it."

"We might shell some corn to-day," suggested David's father,
hesitatingly. It was the first time since his son's return from college
that he had ever proposed their working together.

"