he room. By the amount of dust
she raised she judged that it must have been at least a week,
perhaps a fortnight, since it was swept last.

Of all the work in the world she hated sweeping most, declaring to
herself that doing a portage in blazing sunshine, with a load of
furs on one's back, was play to sweeping. The dust got on her
face, it walked up her nostrils and down her throat, making her
feel as if she must in self-defence throw down her broom and fly
outside, where the clean, strong wind was blowing. But it was not
like her to give up, when once she had set her hand to anything; so
she finished the sweeping, then fled outside to let the dust blow
away from her face and hair while the thick atmosphere in the room
she had left cleared enough to admit of the next set of operations.

Peter M'Crawney was talking to Phil on the other side of the fence,
and from several inarticulate growls which reached her ears she
judged that Simon must be there too. Then she heard Phil start on
a description of what had taken place at the captain's reception on
the ocean-going steamer, and judged herself safe for another ten
minutes, for well she knew that he would not spare them full
details, especially of the monkey trick he had played on Nick Jones.

In ten minutes one could do a great deal if one tried; so back
again she hurried, and set to work dusting the furniture with an
old cotton jacket of Peter's, because she could find no duster.
The buttons got in the way sometimes, but that was a minor detail,
and it did not do to be over-particular about trifles when one was
in a hurry. The dusting was done, and she had started work on the
dirty dishes, when the door of the inner room came open with a
jerk, and Mrs. M'Crawney, very much in undress, poked her head out.

"Miss Radford, is it you?" she cried in profound astonishment. "I
couldn't think what the noise was out here. If it had been night I
should have settled it in my own mind that Peter and Simon had been
having too much to drink, though no two men could be more sober
than they are."

"A good thing they are, for there must be terrible temptations for
men living in such discomfort to drown their troubles in strong
drink," Katherine answered severely. Then she asked in a more
kindly tone: "Do you feel better this morning?"

"Oh, I am well enough, thank you! It isn't my body; bodies don't
matter unless they ache, which mine doesn't, the saints be
praised!" Mrs.