nto his mouth from the golden
wall of oat sheaves in the barn where they were talking. A soft rustling
in the mow overhead marked the remote presence of Jombateeste, who was
getting forward the hay for the horses, pushing it toward the holes
where it should fall into their racks.

"I should want to think about it," said Whitwell. "I do' know as
Cynthy'd care much about stayin'--or Frank."

"How long do you want to think about it?" Jeff demanded, ignoring the
possible wishes of Cynthia and Frank.

"I guess I could let you know by night."

"All right," said Jeff.

He was turning away, when Whitwell remarked:

"I don't know as I should want to stay without I could have somebody I
could depend on, with me, to look after the hosses. Frank wouldn't want
to."

"Who'd you like?"

"Well--Jombateeste."

"Ask him."

Whitwell called to the Canuck, and he came forward to the edge of the
mow, and stood, fork in hand, looking down.

"Want to stay here this winter and look after the horses, Jombateeste?"
Whitwell asked.

"Nosseh!" said the Canuck, with a misliking eye on Jeff.

"I mean, along with me," Whitwell explained. "If I conclude to stay,
will you? Jeff's goin' abroad."

"I guess I stay," said Jombateeste.

"Don't strain yourself, Jombateeste," said Jeff, with malevolent
derision.

"Not for you, Jeff Dorrgin," returned the Canuck. "I strain myself till
I bust, if I want."

Jeff sneered to Whitwell: "Well, then, the most important point is
settled. Let me know about the minor details as soon as you can."

"All right."

Whitwell talked the matter over with his children at supper that
evening. Jeff had made him a good offer, and he had the winter before
him to provide for.

"I don't know what deviltry he's up to," he said in conclusion.

Frank looked to his sister for their common decision. "I am going to try
for a school," she said, quietly. "It's pretty late, but I guess I can
get something. You and Frank had better stay."

"And you don't feel as if it was kind of meechin', our takin' up with
his offer, after what's--" Whitwell delicately forbore to fill out his
sentence.

"You are doing the favor, father," said the girl. "He knows that, and
I guess he wouldn't know where to look if you refused. And, after all,
what's happened now is as much my doing as his."

"I guess that's something so," said Whitwell, with a long sigh of
relief. "Well, I'm glad you can look at it in that light, Cynthy. It's