ry
said hastily, feeling that she simply could not have this gentle,
refined woman waiting upon her,

But for all her gentleness Mrs. Burton could be firm when she
chose, and she replied quietly: "I should not think of going away
until I had seen you with a meal ready prepared. The fire is all
ready for lighting in the stove, and that will save your spirit
lamp, and you are in the wilderness now, remember, where spirit is
difficult to obtain."

The two little girls trotted after their mother. Mary tried to
make friends with them, but they were not used to strangers, so
showed her only averted faces and pouting red lips, which made her
understand that their friendship must be left to time.

When the luggage had been brought up from the boat, Mrs. Burton had
the kettle boiling, and then she sent one of the men across with a
boat to the store, giving him a message for Miles, which resulted
in a basket of fresh fish coming over at once. These, delicately
broiled over a fire of spruce chips, and served piping hot, made,
as Mr. Selincourt observed, a supper fit for a king.

Mrs. Burton stayed with her small daughters to share the meal, and
if she thought ruefully of the family over the river, who would
have to cook their own supper, and also go without the fish which
had been intended for them, she said nothing about it, One must
always suffer something in the give-and-take of life, and there
were plenty of canned goods at the store which might serve at a
pinch.

"Now I must go," she said, when the supper dishes had been washed.
"It is time that Beth and Lotta went to bed, while my father will
be wearying for me if I am too long away."

"Your father?" broke from Mary in surprise, then she stopped
abruptly, realizing that her acquaintance with Mrs. Burton was too
short for over-much curiosity.

"I am a widow," the little woman answered, with the simple dignity
which became her so well. "I live with my father, or did; but now,
strictly speaking, it is he, poor man, who lives with us, and
Katherine earns the living for us all."

"Katherine is your sister?" asked Mary, and now there was tender
sympathy in her tone, and she was understanding why Mrs. Burton's
eyes were so sad.

"Katherine is my younger sister, and she is just wonderful," the
little woman said, with love and admiration thrilling her tones.
"She has done a man's work all the winter, and she is keeping the
business together as well as poor Father co