strong enough to hold the two for all the years that followed.
Virginia had been reared an Episcopalian, but the men out-voted her and
declared that the Aydelot home was the Sunflower Inn for six days in the
week, but on the seventh it was the "First Methodist Church of the
Conference of the Prairies."

There was no levity in its service, however, and He who dwelleth not in
temples made with men's hands blessed with his own benediction of peace
and trust and courage the three who set up their altar to Him in this
far-away place.

On Sabbath afternoons they explored the sand dunes and grassy levels up
and down the river. Sometimes they rode northward to the main trail in
hope of sighting some prairie schooner coming hitherward, but not once
that season did the trail hold a human being for them.

October slipped into November with a gradual sharpening of the frosty air.
Everything had been made as snug as possible for the winter. The corrals
were enlarged for the stock. The houses and stables were thatched against
the cold and storms; and fuel and food were carefully stored. But November
was almost passed before the end of the bright and sometimes even balmy
days.

"We must have Jim up to the Sunflower Inn for Thanksgiving dinner. Might
as well invite the whole neighborhood," Asher said one evening, as he
helped Virginia with the supper dishes.

"I'm planning a real dinner, too," his wife declared, "just like old Mammy
Diane used to cook. You couldn't tell it from hers if you'd ever eaten one
of her spreads."

"I suppose it will taste about as near like one of Diane's meals as you
will look like the cook that made her meals," Asher answered.

"Well, I'm getting along that way. Look at my tanned arms now. There's a
regular dead line, a perfect fireguard at the elbow. And my muscles, Mammy
Diane would say, 'is jus' monst'ous.'"

Virginia pushed back her sleeve to show the well-marked line where white
above met tan below.

"Jim will think anything is better than eating alone out of his own grub
box, and your dinner will be a feast," Asher said, opening the door to
carry out the dish water. "What do you think of this?"

A gust of cold rain swished in as the door fell open.

"Our rain is here, at last. Maybe it will bring snow for Thanksgiving, and
we could have a touch of New England here," Virginia said.

The pelting rain and deepening chill made the little home a very snug nest
that night. There was only one s