this world."

And so Bertie and Tom found that there was such a thing as a fairy after
all.

FOOTNOTE:

[W] Reprinted with the permission of the Henry Altemus Company.

XXXII

THE GREATEST OF THESE[X]

JOSEPH MILLS HANSON

THE outside door swung open suddenly, letting a cloud of steam into the
small, hot kitchen. Charlie Moore, a milk pail in one hand, a lantern in
the other, closed the door behind him with a bang, set the pail on the
table and stamped the snow from his feet.

"There's the milk, and I near froze gettin' it," said he, addressing his
partner, who was chopping potatoes in a pan on the stove.

"Dose vried bodadoes vas burnt," said the other, wielding his knife
vigorously.

"Are, eh? Why didn't you watch 'em instead of readin' your old
Scandinavian paper?" answered Charlie, hanging his overcoat and cap
behind the door and laying his mittens under the stove to dry. Then he
drew up a chair and with much exertion pulled off his heavy felt boots
and stood them beside his mittens.

"Why didn't you shut the gate after you came in from town? The cows got
out and went up to Roney's an' I had to chase 'em; 'tain't any joke
runnin' round after cows such a night as this." Having relieved his mind
of its grievance, Charlie sat down before the oven door, and, opening
it, laid a stick of wood along its outer edge and thrust his feet into
the hot interior, propping his heels against the stick.

"Look oud for dese har biscuits!" exclaimed his partner, anxiously.

"Oh, hang the biscuits!" was Charlie's hasty answer. "I'll watch 'em.
Why didn't you?"

"Ay tank Ay fergit hem."

"Well, you don't want to forget. A feller forgot his clothes once, an'
he got froze."

"Ay gass dose faller vas ketch in a sbring snowstorm. Vas dose biscuits
done, Sharlie?"

"You bet they are, Nels," replied Charlie, looking into the pan.

"Dan subbar vas ready. Yom on!"

Nels picked up the frying-pan and Charlie the biscuits, and set them on
the oilcloth-covered table, where a plate of butter, a jar of plum
jelly, and a coffee-pot were already standing.

Outside the frozen kitchen window the snow-covered fields and meadows
stretched, glistening and silent, away to the dark belt of timber by the
river. Along the deep-rutted road in front a belated lumber-wagon passed
slowly, the wheels crunching through the packed snow with a wavering,
incessant shriek.

The two men hitched their chairs up to the table, and without