ho was the pride of Miss Henderson's new herd,
Janet Leighton remembered one of her letters of the evening and drew it
out of her pocket.

"Who do you think is going to be--is already--the commandant of the
timber girls in the new camp?"

Rachel couldn't guess.

"You remember Mrs. Fergusson--at College?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows.

"The Irish lady? Perfectly."

"Well, it's she. She writes to me to say she is quite settled, with
thirty girls, that the work is fascinating, and they all love it, and you
and I _must_ go over to see her."

Rachel looked irresponsive.

"It's a long way."

"Oh, Miss," said Jenny Harberton timidly, "it's not so very far. An' it's
lovely when you get there. Father was there last week, drivin' some
officers. He says it _is_ interestin'!"

Jenny's father, a plumber in the village, owned a humble open car which
was in perpetual request.

"There are a hundred Canadians apparently," said Janet Leighton, looking
at her letter, "and German prisoners, quite a good few, and these thirty
girls. Mrs. Fergusson begs us to come. Sunday's no good because we
couldn't see the work, but--after the harvest? We could get there with
the pony quite well."

Rachel said nothing.

Janet Leighton dropped the subject for the moment, but after supper, with
her writing-desk on her knee, she returned to it.

"Can't you go without me?" said Rachel, who was standing with her back to
the room, looking out of the window.

"Well, I could," said Janet, feeling rather puzzled, "but I thought you
were curious to see these new kinds of work for women?"

"So I am. It isn't the women."

"The German prisoners, then?" laughed Janet.

"Heavens, no!"

"The Canadians?" asked Janet--in wonder--after a moment. Rachel turned
abruptly towards her.

"Well, I didn't have exactly a good time in Canada," she said, as though
the admission was dragged out of her; adding immediately, "but of course
I'll go--sometime--after the harvest."

On which she left the room, and presently Janet saw her wandering among
the stooks in the gloaming, her hands behind her back. She seemed in her
ripe and comely youth to be somehow the very spirit of the harvest.

A little later, just before ten o'clock, while the sunset glow was still
brooding on the harvest fields, the two farm-girls, after a last visit to
the cows, slipped into the little sitting-room. Janet, who was mending
her Sunday dress, greeted them with a smile and a kind wor