patience an' faith for un."

"Aye, mother, I knows, an' I _is_ glad--oh, _so_ glad t' know I's t'
be well again," said Emily very earnestly. "But," she added, "I'm
thinkin' 'twould be so fine if you or daddy were goin' wi' me. Bob
were countin' on un so--I minds how Bob were countin' on my goin'--an'
he's not here t' know about un--an' I feels wonderful bad when I
thinks of un."

Of course it was quite out of the question for either the father or
the mother to go with her, for that would more than double the expense
and could not be afforded. There was no certainty as to how much would
be coming to them after Bob's share of the furs were sold. This could
not be estimated even approximately for they had not so much as seen
the pelts yet. Richard, grown somewhat pessimistic with the years of
ill fortune, even doubted if, after Bob's debt to Mr. MacDonald was
paid, there would be sufficient left to reimburse Douglas for the
money he had agreed to advance to meet Emily's expenses. "But then,"
he said, "I suppose 'twill work out somehow."

At last the great storm came that opened the rivers and smashed the
bay ice into bits, and when the fury of the wind was spent and the
rain ceased the sun came out with a new warmth that bespoke the summer
close at hand. The tide carried the splintered ice to the open sea,
wild geese honked overhead in their northern flight, seals played in
the open water, and the loon's weird laugh broke the wilderness
silence. The world was awakening from its long slumber, and summer was
at hand.

Tom Black kept his word, and when the ice was gone brought Bessie over
in his boat to stay with Emily until she should go to the hospital. It
was a beautiful, sunny afternoon when they arrived and Bessie brought
a good share of the sunshine into the cabin with her.

"Oh, Bessie!" cried Emily, as her friend burst into the room. "I were
thinkin' you'd not be comin', Bessie! Oh, 'tis fine t' have you come!"

Tom remained the night, and he and Bessie cheered up the Grays, for it
had been a lonely, monotonous period since their last visit, and never
a caller save Douglas had they had.

Time, the great healer of sorrow, had somewhat mitigated the shock of
Bob's disappearance, and had reconciled them to some extent to his
loss. But now the sore was opened again when, one day, a grave was dug
in the spruce woods behind the cabin, and the coffin, which had been
resting upon the scaffold since January, was take