the powdery drifts beneath the big birch bluff.
Winston did not go in, however, when they reached the house, and when,
five minutes later, Maud Barrington came out, she saw him leaning with
a drawn face very wearily against the sleigh. He straightened himself
suddenly at the sight of her, but she had seen sufficient, and her
heart softened towards him. Whatever the man's history had been he had
borne a good deal for her.

The return journey was even more arduous, and now and then Maud
Barrington felt a curious throb of pity for the worn-out man, who
during most of it walked beside the team; but it was accomplished at
last, and she contrived to find means of thanking him alone when they
reached the Grange.

Winston shook his head, and then smiled a little. "It isn't nice to
make a bargain," he said. "Still, it is less pleasant now and then to
feel under an obligation, though there is no reason why you should."

Maud Barrington was not altogether pleased, but she could not blind
herself to facts, and it was plain that there was an obligation. "I am
afraid I cannot quite believe that, but I do not see what you are
leading to."

Winston's eyes twinkled. "Well," he said reflectively, "I don't want
you to fancy that last night commits you to any line of conduct in
regard to me. I only asked for a truce, you see."

Maud Barrington was a trifle nettled. "Yes?" she said.

"Then, I want to show you how you can discharge any trifling obligation
you may fancy you may owe me, which of course would be more pleasant to
you. Do not allow your uncle to sell any wheat forward to you, and
persuade him to sow every acre that belongs to you this spring."

"But however would this benefit you?" asked the girl.

Winston laughed. "I have a fancy that I can straighten up things at
Silverdale, if I can get my way. It would please me, and I believe
they want it. Of course a desire to improve anything appears curious
in me!"

Maud Barrington was relieved of the necessity of answering, for the
Colonel came up just then, but, moved by some sudden impulse, she
nodded as if in agreement.

It was afternoon when she awakened from a refreshing sleep, and
descending to the room set apart for herself and her aunt, sat
thoughtfully still a while in a chair beside the stove. Then,
stretching out her hand, she took up a little case of photographs and
slipped out one of them. It was a portrait of a boy and pony, but
there was a signif