d that was becoming a fierce craving for that
beautiful peace which appeared to have become so firmly established in
these little houses of the frozen wilds. She had elsewhere seen love
of children, little ones petted and made much of, husbands coming home
to a cheery welcome, but it had not seemed the same. The women so
often seemed weary, pale, and worked beyond their strength. Most of
them became querulous at times, apt to speak loudly of intolerable
wrongs or of ill-doings of neighbors across the dark hallways. Here it
looked as if quiet order, cheerful obedience, willingness on the part
of all, were ingrained in the people. Indeed, it was ever so
different.

By this time the rough table was set and Mrs. Papineau deplored the
fact that Hugo had not consented to remain.

"Heem is 'urted more as vat he tink," she confided to the girl.
"To-morrow somebody go to de leetle shack an' fin' 'ow he is. One dog
heem not much nurse, eh?"

These words made Madge feel uncomfortable. Once or twice the idea had
come to her that such a man ought to be punished, that he should be
made to suffer, that he deserved anything that could make him realize
how heinous his conduct had been. But now she had a vague impression
that she was sorry for him, that it was on her account that he had
refused to stay and had gone out at once in the gathering darkness
that had come so swiftly. But in spite of these thoughts and of all
the emotions she had undergone Madge felt again the besetting pangs of
fierce hunger. The slices of moose-meat sizzling in the pan filled the
place with appetizing odor. The mother placed her brood at the long
table but helped her guest first, and plentifully. How these people
ate and expected others to eat! Never could they have heard of the
scanty meals of working girls, of the cups of blue milk, of bitter
tea, or of the little rolls and bits of meat purchased at so-called
delicatessen stores. The girl ate hungrily and the meal was soon over,
but as soon as it was finished the terrible weariness came upon her
again and she was thankful to lie down upon a hard mattress of ticking
filled with the aromatic twigs of balsam fir, beneath heavy blankets
and a wonderful robe of hareskins.

Before she could fall asleep, however, the experiences of her crowded
day passed weirdly before her eyes; yet her despair seemed to be
contending with a strange feeling that was certainly not hope. It was
perhaps merely a weak acquiescenc