ar's worth of
seeding this year. Milling very quiet in Winnipeg. No inquiries from
Europe coming in, and Manitoba dealers, generally, find little demand
for harrows or seeders this year. Reports from Assiniboia seem to show
that the one hope this season will be mixed farming and the neglect of
cereals.'"

"There is only one inference," he said. "When the demand comes, there
will be nothing to meet it with."

"When it comes," said Maud Barrington quietly. "But you who believe it
will stand alone."

"Almost," said Winston. "Still, there are a few much cleverer men who
feel as I do. I can't give you all my reasons, or read you the sheaf
of papers from the Pacific slope, London, New York, Australia, but
while men lose hope, and little by little the stocks run down, the
world must be fed. Just as sure as the harvest follows the sowing, it
will wake up suddenly to the fact that it is hungry. They are buying
cotton and scattering their money in other nation's bonds in the old
country now, for they and the rest of Europe forget their necessities
at times, but is it impossible to picture them finding their granaries
empty and clamoring for bread?"

It was a crucial test of faith, and the man knew it, as the woman did.
He stood alone, with the opinions of the multitude against him, but
there was, Maud Barrington felt, a great if undefinable difference
between his quiet resolution and the gambler's recklessness. Once more
the boldness of his venture stirred her, and this time there was a
little flash in her eyes as she bore witness to her perfect confidence.

"You shall have the land, every acre of it, to do what you like with,
and I will ask no questions whether you win or lose," she said.

Then Miss Barrington glanced at him in turn. "Lance, I have a thousand
dollars I want you to turn into wheat for me."

Winston's fingers trembled, and a darker hue crept into his tan.
"Madam," he said, "I can take no money from you."

"You must," said the little, white-haired lady. "For your mother's
sake, Lance. It is a brave thing you are doing, and you are the son
of one who was my dearest friend."

Winston turned his head away, and both women wondered when he looked
round again. His face seemed a trifle drawn, and his voice was
strained.

"I hope," he said slowly, "it will in some degree make amends for
others I have done. In the meanwhile, there are reasons why your
confidence humiliates me."

Miss Barringto