ssing
first one and then the other.

"My mother and my wife-to-be must certainly like each other," he said.

They passed into the house, over which John and his mother conducted
Elizabeth, talking of its arrangement and furnishings. The girl had
supposed that she had a fairly definite idea of the appearance that house
would have, having overseen every feature of its building, but it was a
world of surprises she entered upon to-day. In her wildest dreams of what
they would do when they had become rich, as they had planned much to do,
this daughter of the Kansas prairies had never pictured such tasteful
home-making. Each bedroom had its bureau with bedstead to match, and the
one downstairs had ruffled pillow-shams.

"This is to be your own room," Mrs. Hunter whispered in Elizabeth's ear,
and the young girl stole a shy look at her lover, who was drumming on the
window and had not heard, and made no reply, but it gave her a sense of
possession in the new house which she had very nearly lost of late.

It was reserved for the new cook stove in the spotless kitchen to complete
the surprises of Elizabeth's new world. Elizabeth fingered the nickled
knobs, exclaimed over the reservoir for hot water at its back and the
warming closet below, and investigated all its secret places as if it had
been a toy. John Hunter gave his mother an approving nod behind the girl's
back, and the visit was a success. Elizabeth forgot that she was to share
the honours of the home with "Mother Hunter," as she had secretly called
her a few times, and in the end overstayed her time till the leave-taking
at Aunt Susan's had to be cut short, and they were late in arriving at her
father's house.

The day, which had had so many variations, however, like a piece of music,
was to return to the original theme before it closed. It had been a day of
forebodings and anxiety. Fate never permitted Elizabeth Farnshaw more than
a short snatch at happiness, and as John Hunter drove away after he had
helped her deposit her trunk in a dusty corner, the girl wanted to run
after him and implore him not to leave her at the mercy of the morrow.

As she gazed about the cheerless kitchen she noticed a muffled lump in the
middle of the table. The sponge for the Saturday's baking had been warmly
wrapped for the night. To-morrow would be bake day! Oh, joy! Elizabeth
resolved to insist upon kneading the dough the next morning, and before
starting up the ladder to the loft w