en
suddenly a blast of air struck her in the face, which made her look up
startled. For a moment she thought, perhaps, there was a fire near in
the grass. But there was none. Another blast came, hotter this time, and
fifteen minutes later that wind was sweeping straight across the plain,
burning and blasting. Annie went in the house to finish her ironing, and
was working there, when she heard Jim's footstep on the door-sill. He
could not pale because of the tan, but there was a look of agony and of
anger-almost brutish anger--in his eyes. Then he looked, for a moment,
at Annie standing there working patiently, and rocking the little crib
with one foot, and he sat down on the door-step and buried his face in
his brown arms.

The wind blew for three days. At the end of that time every ear was
withered in the stalk. The corn crop was ruined.

But there were the other crops which must be attended to, and Jim
watched those with the alertness of a despairing man; and so harvest
came again, and again the house was filled with men who talked their
careless talk, and who were not ashamed to gorge while this one woman
cooked for them. The baby lay on a quilt on the floor in the coolest
part of the kitchen. Annie fed it irregularly. Sometimes she almost
forgot it. As for its wailing, she had grown so used to it that she
hardly heard it, any more than she did the ticking of the clock. And
yet, tighter than anything else in life, was the hold that little thing
had on her heart-strings. At night, after the interminable work had been
finished--though in slovenly fashion--she would take it up and caress it
with fierceness, and worn as she was, would bathe it and soothe it, and
give it warm milk from the big tin pail.

"Lay the child down," Jim would say impatiently, while the men would
tell how their wives always put the babies on the bed and let them cry
if they wanted to. Annie said nothing, but she hushed the little one
with tender songs.

One day, as usual, it lay on its quilt while Annie worked. It was a
terribly busy morning. She had risen at four to get the washing out of
the way before the men got on hand, and there were a dozen loaves of
bread to bake, and the meals to get, and the milk to attend to, and the
chickens and pigs to feed. So occupied was she that she never was able
to tell how long she was gone from the baby. She only knew that the heat
of her own body was so great that the blood seemed to be pounding at her