an may scorn the companionship of her
sisters when she is surrounded by them, she finds her days unduly long
when she is cut off from their society altogether.

As the months passed on into the year, and his wife commenced to develop
undreamed-of resources of temper, Taylor began to wonder to himself
whether he had not been "got at over the marriage business."

At the end of the first year, on his visit to the southern township for
his stores, he took his wife with him in the spring-cart, and they spent
a few days at the hotel where she had previously been employed. It had
changed hands in the mean time, and the newcomer had with him a family
of children. During the stay, and on the return journey, there was no
sign of the acrid temper his wife had displayed at the selection; but as
soon as they were home again it broke out. When he was in the house she
railed at him, and if he stayed away among his fences and his stock, she
grumbled, as soon as he returned, at his absence.

He left the house before a furious outburst which he was quite unable to
understand, and, passing down the track to the slip-rails, leaned upon
them in the hopes of solving the riddle. An old sundowner, chancing to
pass along the road, stopped in the hopes of a yarn. But Taylor was in
no mood to talk on any other subject than that which was worrying him.
He accordingly poured out his tale to the old man, who, having heard it,
suggested that perhaps the cause of it all lay in the worry and trouble
of the children, or, as he termed them, kids. "There ain't no kids,"
Taylor retorted in irritation; and the old man, looking at him
quizzically, observed, "Oh, there ain't no kids, ain't there? Well,
then, there y'are."

This new factor in the problem worried Taylor still more when the old
man, with an uncomplimentary allusion to the sagacity of the owner of
Taylor's Folly, continued his way. But time was kind, and he grew more
learned when premonitory symptoms of the approach of a light from
another world were manifest, and peace lay on his wife's tongue and
sweetness ruled her temper.

Then there came the light which made the mother glad and the father
bewildered, for, as he explained to the neighbour who came from forty
miles away to lend her aid, he knew "nothin' about the rearin' of that
sort of stock."

He left his fences alone that day and spent the hours hanging round the
house, taking periodical trips into the room where the mother and the
c