THE MOTTO OF 
 MRS. McLANE
 
 THE MOTTO OF 
 MRS. McLANE 
 
 THE STORY OF 
 AN AMERICAN FARM 
 
 BY 
 
 SHIRLEY CARSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 DEDICATED TO 
 
 MY HUSBAND 
 
 AMD 
 
 TO ALL THOSE NIGHTS BY THE CAMP-FIRE 
 
 AND THE DAYS ON INDIAN TRAILS 
 WHERE I LISTENED TO AND LEARNED THESE THINGS 
 
 2228369
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 UT AIN'T denyin' I've got childern 
 A o' my own," said Mrs. McLane, 
 slamming the oven-door on a couple of pies ; 
 "and I'm not sayin' but what Ena's comin' 
 here will be an extry expense. I thought 
 that all out, turnin' and twistin' in the dark 
 last night with that everlastin' toe o' mine. 
 Yet I don't see any way but to have her here. 
 Countin' her mother as my sister, which she 
 warn't, Ena has got a sort o' right to look 
 to me for a home." 
 
 "She's got more right to look to others," 
 said Dick sullenly. "Ena has got closer rel- 
 atives than her mother's step-sister, and 
 people who are better able to take care of 
 her, too." 
 
 "The child'll get taken care of here all 
 1
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 right. At least, she'll go in with the rest 
 o' you, and I can't promise more'n that. 
 No woman on a farm has time to train her 
 children in a fancy way, and for the mat- 
 ter o' that, I'm no believer in it." 
 
 "That's not the point, mother. You 
 know we're not the first who should be asked 
 to do this 
 
 "We've done it now, anyway," snapped 
 Mrs. McLane triumphantly. "If other 
 people neglect their duty, it's no reason why 
 I should take pattern by 'em. I've made 
 it a point all my life to give the helpin' hand 
 to whatever come along, and it's no time 
 to put wool in my ear when it's the case of 
 a child that calls me aunt. Ena has got 
 her father's folks, I know, but they don't 
 seem to want her, and a girl o' thirteen can't 
 manage for herself. If you do your duty, 
 Dick, you'll hitch up the buggy this minute. 
 The train gets in at four o'clock, and you've 
 eight miles to drive." 
 Dick uncurled his long legs from the wood-
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 box, and stood for a moment watching his 
 mother trim off a third pie. 
 
 "What'll father say?" he asked. "You 
 know you've fixed up this whole business 
 without a word from him." 
 
 "Your father's not here to say a word," 
 answered Mrs. McLane complacently, "and 
 when he gets back he'll see that nothin' else 
 could ha' been done. Six childern ain't so 
 much more'n five, when you come to think 
 of it. Ena bein' here'll make you boys feel 
 you've got a sister." 
 
 "She'll not care about us for brothers, 
 though," Dick blurted out, saying the thing 
 that had been in his thoughts for the last 
 few minutes. "That's what I'm trying to 
 show you, mother. Ross has seen it all 
 along. You can tell by her letters that 
 Ena's had a better bringing-up than us. 
 You'll most likely find her a lady." 
 
 "You'll discover she'll be glad enough to 
 wear a calico dress and a sun-bonnet, even 
 if she's been used to finer things in Calif orny.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 With her father and mother dead, and the 
 folks out there tryin' to turn their backs on 
 her, I'm not expectin' to find the child a 
 peacock. I guess you boys have got man- 
 ners enough for her. Ploughin' and sortin' 
 pertaters don't make for cityfied ways, I 
 know, but Ena'll be glad enough to find the 
 roof of a farmhouse over her, I'm thinkin'. 
 Now, you stop worryin' about nonsense and 
 fill the wood-box for me afore you start." 
 
 Dick lounged to the sunny doorway and 
 then paused again, his eye on the wood-pile. 
 There, curled up behind the split logs and 
 well screened from a view of the kitchen- win- 
 dow, lay the boy of scarcely fifteen, who was 
 known as the "halfway one" of the McLane 
 family. Dick looked at his mother again. 
 
 "It isn't particularly that I don't want 
 Ena here, but it seems as if there was al- 
 ways something cropping up to prevent us 
 getting a step forward. I'm nineteen, and 
 I've never seen a pair o' shoes wearing off 
 my feet yet without wondering if another 
 
 4
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 pair would be sure to come along after 
 them. I've thought lately things could be a 
 bit different. We ought to know what we 
 can afford, and what we can't." 
 
 "You may know a thing, but you can't 
 always take it into account." Mrs. McLane 
 wiped the flour from her arms vigorously. 
 "All you can do is to cast your bread upon 
 the waters what you've got and trust the 
 first tide'll bring it in again. You wouldn't 
 shut up like a clam-shell just because you 
 happen to be poor, would you?" 
 
 "I'd weigh things out more, and take note 
 where helping one person hurts another. 
 I'm thinking of Ross, who wants in the worst 
 kind of a way to go to school. He works 
 hard all the time with that one idea in his 
 head, and it kind of worries me to have 
 things done which put him farther from it. 
 He's learned all the district school can teach 
 him, and he knows it. Don't you see what I 
 mean, mother?" 
 
 "I see that you're tormentin' the hand o'
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Providence, which gives you what you get; 
 and worryin' over things in the future that's 
 not to be seen nor smelt yet. It's been my 
 way to take what comes along, but you and 
 Ross are for ever tryin' to stretch your necks 
 across to-morrow and see what you can 
 catch up with. It's no way to do." 
 
 Dick leaned against the lintel disconso- 
 lately. 
 
 "But I'd sift what came along," he per- 
 sisted. "I'd weigh consequences." 
 
 "You'd wear spectacles all the time, and 
 keep your nose on full scent, but that's not 
 my way, and I don't know that people get 
 on any better for bein' so pernickety. A 
 good turn is a good turn, never mind the 
 weighin' and the siftin' of it." 
 
 "You're awful set in your ways, mother." 
 
 "Land knows, I've had to be, with a hus- 
 band to manage and five young ones to 
 bring up, not to speak o' the farm. There's 
 been no time for diddle-daddlin', and I 
 guess I've got as good a head on my shoul- 
 
 6
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 ders as any of you. It beats me entirely to 
 see the stand you've took over Ena's comin'. 
 If you ain't got a smile to give her when she 
 steps up, you best let Ross take the buggy. 
 It sorter makes me feel ashamed to think the 
 child's comin' to a place where she ain't en- 
 tirely welcome." 
 
 "I told you I'm not talking altogether 
 about Ena." Dick writhed as easily as 
 most people under Mrs. McLane's reproach. 
 "There's other things that haven't happened 
 right. I got these thoughts started when 
 that pedlar robbed you a year ago, and 
 took the only good bit of jewellery you'd 
 got." 
 
 "The Lord showed me no thief in his eye 
 when he crawled up and asked for a night's 
 rest. Would you have me harden my heart 
 because o' that pedlar and his wicked ways? 
 You had better leave the judgment o' such 
 things to me, and have done with the 
 thoughts I see in your mind. And if I'm 
 to get my bakin' done in time the wood-box 
 
 7
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 must be filled this minute. All this foolish 
 talk won't help the oven to heat." 
 
 A tremendous clatter of stove-lids helped 
 to finish the last remark a way Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane had of giving triumphal emphasis to 
 the end of an argument. Dick went out 
 moodily to the wood-pile, and woke up the 
 boy who was sleeping in the sun. The latter 
 stretched himself, then rose alertly. Dick 
 spoke without looking at him. 
 
 "I'm going to hitch up the buggy right 
 away, and get over to Creston." 
 
 "Then she's coming?" Ross leaned his 
 slender form against the logs, speaking 
 quietly. 
 
 "She's most here, according to what 
 mother says. I'd have you go to the 
 depot, but I want to see Custer about the 
 machinery we ordered. You'll have to do 
 the chores alone to-night, and get them done 
 early. We don't want a pile of work around 
 when Ena's here." 
 
 The two boys looked at each other with 
 8
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 understanding. "Since she's coming we'll 
 do what we can," Dick continued stoically. 
 "She'll see what we are, and know she's got 
 to sink or swim with us. I guess that be- 
 fore a week's out she may be wishing we 
 hadn't been so ready with an invitation* 
 Now I'm off." 
 
 Ross nodded, and watched the buggy out 
 of sight. A vague apprehension and a sub- 
 dued anticipation equally possessed him. 
 He went about the work Dick had specified 
 with a marvellous energy, and the result of 
 his enthusiasm was that towards six o'clock 
 that evening an unwonted peace reigned in 
 the farmhouse kitchen. He had been aided 
 by the twin brothers, who were five years his 
 junior, and they had got through with the 
 chores in considerably less time than usual. 
 The three were now washing-up at the bench 
 in a hurry. Mrs. McLane, slicing potatoes 
 into the griddle, noted special efforts were 
 being made, and sniffed somewhat disdain- 
 fully. 
 
 9
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I ain't one to put on airs to-day which 
 have to be taken off to-morrow. I might 
 have put on my best black skirt, but Ena'd 
 see me in my old calico the very next time 
 she set eyes on me, so what's the use? Bet- 
 ter begin as you mean to go on, and cause 
 no flurry. You boys are washin' your necks 
 three times round to-night where once does 
 as a usual thing and often nothin' at all. 
 Be quick and get through anyway. I want 
 someone to look after the supper while I go 
 upstairs." 
 
 Ross hung up his towel, and went to the 
 window, peering out. 
 
 "They won't be here for ten minutes," he 
 said, brushing his hair down with his moist 
 hands. "Dick had one or two errands to do 
 on his way back." 
 
 "If he don't forget 'em on account o' hav- 
 ing Ena with him, which is more'n likely. 
 Dick ain't much of a hand at thinkin' o' 
 more than one thing at a time, and Ena's 
 comin' here has upset him quite a bit. I 
 10
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 don't know why, I'm sure, for he sees that 
 I ain't puttin' myself out o' the way any. 
 I ain't found time to finish straightenin' the 
 bedroom she's to have till this minute. 
 Ross, did you set those books o' yourn out 
 o' the closet?" 
 
 "I did it this morning." 
 
 "Then I'll take this piece-quilt and lay 
 over the bed. It's the last new one I made, 
 and I shouldn't like to say how many stitches 
 there is in it. If Ena is handy with her 
 needle, she'll be a help with the sewin'." 
 
 Ross followed his mother through the sit- 
 ting-room and up the little flight of stairs 
 which opened directly into the north bed- 
 room. Here Dick slept, and here also, ow- 
 ing to the new arrangement, a feather-bed 
 for Jerry and Dan had been thrown on the 
 floor in one corner. Ross looked at it doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 "They'll sleep as well there as the Presi- 
 dent does in the White House," said Mrs. 
 McLane. "If they don't rest good they 
 11
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 can work a little harder durin' the day, and 
 that'll cure 'em. Now, why don't you 
 share this bed with Dick 'stead o' wantin' 
 the little off-room which I've only used for 
 a garret," 
 
 "Because I like to be alone, and I can 
 have my things to myself." Ross stepped 
 into the little room as if to shield it from 
 entry. "You let me fix it up, mother, and 
 it'll be all right." 
 
 "I don't care, if you want it. You're 
 neat enough, I'll say that for you always. 
 Here you've been fixing up Ena's room, too. 
 Ain't these your own book-shelves?" 
 
 "I'm making some more for myself." 
 Ross looked anxiously at the wooden bed- 
 stead, the chair and little table, and the 
 two strips of rag-carpet. "If we had a 
 rocker up here, mother, it would be all 
 right." 
 
 "Rocker, none! What I've got are for 
 the sittin'-room. If Ena's a good helpful 
 girl, she won't want to sit up here and rock.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Yesterday you was askin' me for a muslin 
 blind for the window." 
 
 "I don't want it now. Ena can't have 
 seen a finer view than she gets here. I've 
 watched Pine Hill ever since I can remem- 
 ber. She'll see it when she wakes to-mor- 
 row morning." 
 
 "She may not have your fancies for such 
 things." Mrs. McLane spoke a little softly, 
 turning the candle-light full on the boy's 
 eager face. This third son of hers was, in 
 many ways, a puzzle, and sometimes an an- 
 noyance, but she loved him well. 
 
 "If she's like most girls she'll want to tend 
 the house and sew, and find new ways o' 
 doin' her hair. It's best for a woman to be 
 that way, anyhow. It all comes in her path, 
 and if she don't like it so much the worse 
 for her. Just smooth the bed-quilt over 
 there. You've found a flower or two for the 
 vase, I declare. That's so much the better, 
 but I've no time for such ways. Don't the 
 smell o' them pertaters burnin' come right 
 13
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 to your nose? Jerry McLane is a poor 
 enough hand at a cook-stove." 
 
 Ross leaned out of the window as his 
 mother and the candle vanished simultane- 
 ously. The tranquil night of the Indian 
 summer had fallen, but looking to the west, 
 he could see a soft blur of hills against the 
 sky. The still woods lay below them, and 
 nearer there were open spaces, dotted by 
 the lit windows of lonely farmhouses. The 
 road from Creston wound between the hills 
 and along for eight miles till it passed in 
 front of the McLane house, from which it 
 was separated by a lawn which did as it 
 liked, and a semicircle of trees which the 
 birds owned. 
 
 In spite of the fact that he was old enough 
 to know what a sixth child dependent on 
 the slender resources of the family would 
 mean, Ross could not help sharing to some 
 extent the delighted excitement of the twins 
 over the advent of the cousin from Cal- 
 ifornia. There was a certain novelty in the
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 episode which outshone even reasons of 
 prudence, and it seemed superfluous (at the 
 moment) to reflect on the possible vicissi- 
 tudes that Ena's coming might bring. Ross 
 was more inclined to take his mother's atti- 
 tude just now, and assume a wholesale trust 
 over the future. Life so far had been se- 
 cure in fundamentals : there had always been 
 three meals a day, a suit for Sundays, and 
 a variety of garments calculated for work- 
 ing wear. It was true that these latter were 
 often of a somewhat trying description, 
 fished mostly from the depths of a mysteri- 
 ously bountiful attic, and rarely calculated, 
 either in size or shape, to adorn the person 
 called upon to close their career. Yet the 
 McLane children were well schooled in the 
 necessities adversity brings, and Ross had 
 even been known to wear the prune-coloured 
 coat of a deceased great-uncle with a sense 
 of blessing. 
 
 In thinking of Ena there was a distinctly 
 restful sense about the fact that the winter 
 15
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 was coming. After the hard work of the 
 summer the whole community at the farm 
 were wont to sigh with a certain relief at the 
 first flying of the snow. It meant a still 
 further seclusion, even from the straggling 
 little village of Lindville, but the McLanes 
 were a family of resource, and the pioneer 
 spirit burned bravely. There was a certain 
 pleasure in the fighting experiences the 
 winter brought, which appealed to one and 
 all. Ross squared his shoulders in- 
 voluntarily as he thought of it, and he be- 
 came convinced that Ena would resent her 
 surroundings less than Dick imagined. 
 Mrs. McLane had declared more than once 
 that there would be the charm of novelty; 
 and Ross sat down in sudden enthusiasm on 
 the new patchwork quilt, half believing that 
 this would prove true. 
 
 The grinding of buggy-wheels on the 
 
 dusty road stopped any further speculation, 
 
 and, straining his eyes through the nearly 
 
 fallen darkness, Ross saw Dick driving in. 
 
 16
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 He rushed downstairs, encountering his 
 mother as she emerged from the kitchen, 
 gripping the potato-fork in one hand. 
 
 "Open the door, do," she demanded. 
 "Jerry and Dan ha' been watchin' this half- 
 hour, neglectin' everythin' else, and now 
 they're fit to hide in the cellar for shyness. 
 Dick's brought the buggy to the front porch, 
 and there's Ena gettin' out now. My! A 
 taller girl than I thought, and dressed quiet, 
 but as fine as a fiddle. Let me get out to 
 her." 
 
 Ross held the door open, the colour of 
 doubt and diffidence mounting slowly to his 
 face. He had never seen before the type 
 of girl his mother drew into the room, and 
 as her eyes met his he withdrew his glance, 
 the greeting on his lips unspoken. Mrs. 
 McLane laughed as she kissed her niece. 
 
 "They're shy, one and all, but we don't 
 
 see strangers in these parts, Ena. Loose 
 
 your coat, child, and make yourself at home 
 
 right away. You've got a share in the place 
 
 17
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 now, you know. Just throw your clothes 
 in the rocker over there, and then come to 
 the fire. I misdoubt but what you've had a 
 cold drive." 
 
 "Only for the last few minutes." Ena 
 crossed to Ross as she spoke, holding out 
 her hand. At the same moment she caught 
 sight of Jerry and Dan, pushing one another 
 surreptitiously forward into the room. 
 
 "What a lot of boys!" she said. 
 
 "All boys," said Mrs. McLane. "Four 
 you've seen, though I must say you've got 
 nothin' out of 'em, and one more to come. 
 That's Dale, and he works out over to Uncle 
 Ed's farm, three miles or more from here. 
 He'll be here to-night to spend over Sunday 
 with us, and that's all we see of him just 
 now. It's a real grist o' boys for you, Ena, 
 and only one anywhere near your own age. 
 You and Ross ought to get along together 
 when he's got over feelin' you're somethin' 
 right out o' the common. Now all o' you 
 come and set right down to supper." 
 18
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Ross pulled his chair from under the 
 table, but at the same moment a sudden dis- 
 taste for supper seized him. Nobody was 
 looking, and he opened the back-door softly, 
 and slipped out unnoticed. Dick was com- 
 ing across the yard from the barn, and Ross 
 saw him enter the kitchen and take his ac- 
 customed place at the table. Then Mrs. 
 McLane noticed the absent one, and came 
 to the door shouting impatiently; but Ross 
 stayed silently in the wood-shed, and the 
 call was not repeated. 
 
 How long he sat there he did not know, 
 but the lights were all out in the farmhouse 
 when at last he stepped quietly across the 
 yard. In the meantime he had thought him- 
 self into a state of comparative tranquillity. 
 The feeling of having been taken unawares 
 had passed, and he braced himself with the 
 belief that, when the morning came, he 
 would be able to meet the wonderful cousin 
 with almost as much nonchalance as Mrs. 
 McLane. 
 
 19
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 4 4T II THEN shall I see Aunt Loosher?" 
 V V Ena had been at the farm three 
 days now, and the fatigue of the long jour- 
 ney and the first dreadful sensation of 
 homesickness were things of the past. To- 
 day was Tuesday, and it seemed a long, long 
 while back to the previous Saturday even- 
 ing of her arrival. Since then she had ex- 
 plored every nook and cranny round the 
 farm, and made friends with all the members 
 of the curious, happy-go-lucky family into 
 whose midst she had so suddenly been cast. 
 There was too much work going on for any- 
 one to pay particular attention to her, but 
 this was just as well, for Ena did best when 
 cast on her own resources, and her natural 
 courage and self-reliance had already as- 
 serted itself. Of all the new cousins, it was 
 to Ross she turned instinctively for comrade- 
 20
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 ship. He had unfolded gradually from his 
 first shyness, partly, perhaps, because Ena 
 displayed no such feeling towards him. The 
 two had seen a good deal of each other in 
 the past three days, but their first real con- 
 versation was taking place now, on the wood- 
 pile, while Ena awaited Mrs. McLane's 
 summons to "go over" her trunks a mys- 
 terious task which had been put off from 
 hour to hour and day to day, since her ar- 
 rival. 
 
 "When shall I see Aunt Loosher?" Ena 
 persisted, watching Ross pile the wood in 
 order. "Dale told me on Sunday that I 
 shouldn't be a part of the neighbourhood 
 until Aunt Loosher had seen me. Who is 
 she?" 
 
 "She's the eldest of all ma's family the 
 one that's lame in the knees, you know. It 
 makes her so she can't always get around 
 when she wants to, and then she's mad. 
 Didn't you hear Dale say she wanted to 
 come over with him Sunday?" 
 1
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Was she too sick?" 
 
 "Just her knees. She's rickety. Ma's 
 promised to let you go over one day this 
 week, and then you'll see her, and Uncle 
 Ed. Jerry's scared lest she wants you to 
 stay with her." 
 
 "To stay with her?" Ena sat down sud- 
 denly on the logs, feeling overcome by the 
 proposition. "Haven't they any children of 
 their own?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Is that why Dale stays there?" Ena 
 put her chin in her hands. The inquisitive 
 side of her nature had been called to the 
 front now. 
 
 "Dale stays to help. Aunt Loosher 
 wouldn't have him round for the fun 
 of it." Ross laughed as he swung his 
 axe. 
 
 "Why does Jerry think I may stay over 
 there too?" 
 
 "Just an idea he's got perhaps he heard 
 Dale say something. I guess Dale teased
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 him," Ross concluded, noticing Ena's seri- 
 ous face. 
 
 "Is that all? I thought you really meant 
 it." Ena rose, drawing a long breath. "I've 
 been for a year past with an aunt and uncle 
 who hadn't any children, and I didn't like 
 it. They didn't care for it either." Ena 
 added simply, "and so I stayed at school 
 most of the time." 
 
 Ross looked at her enviously. "The dis- 
 trict school over the hill there won't be any 
 good to you," he said, pointing west. 
 "You'd have to go to Creston for the school- 
 ing that you want." 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 "Not yet." A faint colour stole into the 
 boy's cheeks, and he wielded the axe with re- 
 doubled vigour, as if he guessed that in de- 
 voted labour only lay the chance to attain 
 his desire which, indeed, was true! Ena 
 moved a step nearer. She was sure by now 
 that she liked Ross the best of all the cousins. 
 
 "I'll go to the district school with you 
 23
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 this winter if Aunt June will let me. We 
 can study together in the evening, and per- 
 haps I can help ' 
 
 Just then Mrs. McLane's head appeared 
 at the bedroom window as she shouted a 
 quick summons. Ena left her sentence un- 
 finished but understood, and hurried up- 
 stairs. Mrs. McLane was already in the 
 doorway of the bedroom, casting a somewhat 
 withering glance round at the extreme neat- 
 ness within. 
 
 "You take after your ma in being finicky, 
 Ena. She just spent her time in puttin' 
 crooked chairs straight and tackin' down 
 carpet for someone to kick up again. I mis- 
 doubt but what she'd ha' lived longer if she'd 
 ha' been more easy-backed in the way o' 
 takin' things. But she was a woman who 
 never saw where she was at till she got there, 
 and so she was always havin' a time doin' 
 what she hadn't expected to. Now which 
 trunk do you want me to go over first?" 
 
 Ena, unconscious of having made any re- 
 24.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 quest in the matter at all, pulled out the 
 smaller trunk. 
 
 "I put just my dresses in here, and noth- 
 ing else," she remarked. Mrs. McLane 
 sniffed. 
 
 "Two trunks for a girl o' thirteen is quite 
 a bit o' baggage. You ain't stinted none in 
 clothes, that's sure. How many new things 
 did your Uncle Hugo and your aunt buy 
 for you when they knew you was comin' 
 here?" 
 
 "Aunt made me those linen dresses 
 those you're taking out now." 
 
 Scorn seemed to be dripping from Mrs. 
 McLane's fingers. She held one of the 
 dresses aloft. 
 
 "All decked out with embroidery, as if 
 you'd been comin' to sit in a front parlour 
 for the rest o' your life. I can tell by her 
 notion o' fixin' clothes that she and I 
 wouldn't get on for a minute. Why didn't 
 she get you some good calico?" 
 
 "I suppose she didn't think of it." 
 
 25
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Likely she didn't. It's easy to see she's 
 one o' those women who live sorter lace- 
 edged lives, drinkin' tea in high-heeled slip- 
 pers, and embroiderin' little mats. It clear 
 tuckers me out to have any thin' to do with 
 'em, and I always want to set 'em scourin' 
 milk-pails. Your Aunt Loosher had a sort 
 o' spell that way when she was a young 
 woman, but marryin' a farmer took all the 
 nonsense out o' her, and she was soon feedin' 
 hogs as good as anybody." 
 
 "Is Aunt Loosher your only sister?" 
 
 "No, there's another one, but she lives a 
 matter o' fifty miles from here, and I ain't 
 seen her in this ten years. She took to her 
 bed to reform her husband." 
 
 "Was he wicked?" 
 
 "Drink," said Mrs. McLane tersely. 
 "It's funny that Rachel was always so agen 
 drink, and that's the very thing she married. 
 Seems as if the thing we run away from runs 
 after us. I guess Jeremiah let up some on 
 his ways when he saw how things was goin', 
 26
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 but by that time Rachel was too comfort- 
 able to quit, and there she lays till this day. 
 Last I heer'd o' her she had took to hatchin' 
 eggs." 
 
 "Hatchin eggs?" Ena sat up incredu- 
 lously, with quivering lips. "Are you seri- 
 ous, Aunt June?" 
 
 Mrs. McLane sniffed disapproval. 
 
 "I don't see why I ain't, nor what there 
 is to laugh at neither. The woman lays 
 there continual, and she may as well make 
 some use o' herself. It's the only sensible 
 thing I've heer'd about her in a long while. 
 Now you've got a real mess o' muslin dresses 
 here, Ena, and you'll never get through with 
 'em by just wearin' 'em Sundays." 
 
 "I wear them every day in the hot 
 weather." Ena came back somewhat won- 
 deringly from thoughts of Aunt Rachel. 
 
 "Did them folks in Californy think you'd 
 keep at the flimsy-limsy style o' life down 
 here; don't they know nothin' about farm 
 ways?" 
 
 27
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 " I don't think so," Ena confessed, look- 
 ing at her wardrobe, which, until now, had 
 befitted her mode of life. "City life is dif- 
 ferent. Uncle Hugo said it would be much 
 better for me to be brought up in the 
 country." 
 
 Mrs. McLane looked at the girl's face and 
 saw complete innocence there. 
 
 ''Did your Uncle Hugo have a pleasant 
 way with him?" she inquired disdainfully. 
 Ena nodded. 
 
 "I thought so. Sorter smiled when he 
 said that, and maybe patted your head. I'm 
 glad you've come to a place where nobody'll 
 pat your head, but where what you find 
 sorter feels your own. Guess you've got 
 that kind o' feelin' in your blood a'ready, 
 ain't you?" 
 
 "A little bit, Aunt June." 
 
 "June! For the land's sake, don't call 
 
 me that soft name, child. Let it be Ju, 
 
 just as everybody else does. The folks must 
 
 ha' been crazy when they called me June." 
 
 28
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "But it's pretty." 
 
 "Nothin's pretty that ain't got sense to 
 it, and a tormentin' name like that makes 
 you feel kind o' silly-like, as if you'd been 
 writ about in a dime novel. Your mother 
 she was just my sister, you know, and I 
 never saw her till I .was past eleven used 
 to laugh about the names in our f am'ly, and 
 she always called Loosher 'Lucheer' same 
 as it should be, she said. Loosher was quite 
 set up over it for a bit, but then she got kind 
 of scared about the spellin', and last of all 
 she went back to the good-enough way we'd 
 always had. Your mother kept her own no- 
 tion over it, though she had just enough 
 cussedness in her to make her real amusin' 
 and sorter independent, and I can see you're 
 some the same. Seems queer I never saw 
 her after she married and went out to Cali- 
 forny. It's a long way, though, and I guess 
 your pa's folks is diff'rent sorter gingery 
 about mixin' with milk when once they'd riz 
 to be cream. No disrespect to 'em," Mrs. 
 29
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 McLane added hurriedly, seeing she had in- 
 troduced a new idea into Ena's mind. 
 "There's lots that way, and it seems sorter 
 human nature for some people to want to 
 be in the boss-seat, even if it only brings 
 'em rotten eggs. Well, I've come to the 
 bottom o' this trunk, and ain't found nothin' 
 reasonable in the way o' wear in it. There's 
 nothin' highfalutin, but everything made in 
 a way which shows me that your aunt thinks 
 more o' Parishun fashions than she does o' 
 salvation. I'm not sure what the folks'll 
 think when you go to Sabbath-school. 
 Likely they'll feel I'd ought to ha' set you up 
 in somethin' diff'rent; but it goes mortal 
 agen the grain for me to waste any thin', 
 though I ain't got no miserly blood in me 
 same as Loosher." 
 
 "I'll wear these out, and get calico after- 
 wards," suggested Ena, breathing a sigh of 
 relief as she saw Mrs. McLane's fingers go- 
 ing more lightly over the second trunk. 
 "How will that do, Aunt June?" 
 30
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I guess that'll be right. If I'd had girls 
 you could ha' shared up with 'em some, but 
 there ain't a girl in the hull family. 
 Loosher's nary chick nor child, and since 
 she's gone some lame in the knees, I guess 
 she feels the want o' one to trip around a 
 bit for her. She's such pernickety ways that 
 no hired girl'll stay more'n a week or two. If 
 Dale warn't soft and easy-goin', he couldn't 
 take a bit o' comfort over there, but he's 
 just one o' the sort that anywheres is home 
 to him. He's like his father, who you'll not 
 see till spring, seein' as he's gone in the 
 woods this winter. I'm kind o' sorry he left 
 home early this year, but he's been stayin' 
 a couple o' weeks with a sick brother up 
 North, and from there he'll go on to the 
 loggin' camp. I writ him a letter yest'day 
 sayin' you was here, and how he'd have 
 somethin' fresh to come home to in the 
 spring." 
 
 "Didn't he know I was coming?" Ena 
 looked a little disconcerted, some habits of 
 31
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 the McLane family being as yet unfamiliar 
 to her. 
 
 "Time enough for him to know now, when 
 we've sure-enough got you here." Mrs. 
 McLane struggled up from the floor. "Rob 
 McLane sorter fits into my doin's, quiet like, 
 and there's a good bit o' peaceableness about 
 him. He's a deal easier to do with than 
 Dick, as you'll see later on when you get the 
 hang o' the family. I ain't sorter shook 
 down to the feelin' o' you yet, though you 
 don't act strange a particle, and I'm glad 
 of it. That used to be your mother's way. 
 She'd just set down with anybody, and act 
 as if she'd known 'em a hundred years. It's 
 a good thing those Calif orny folks ain't took 
 the naturalness out o' you. I'll bet your 
 aunt is all starch and frills?" 
 
 Ena looked puzzled. 
 
 "No harm meant to her, o' course," said 
 Mrs. McLane. "I can just fancy she and 
 me wouldn't get on, that's all. Folks has 
 to have diff' rent ways, else we should all
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 die o' the monotony of each other, and 
 there'd be no chance to pick at one another, 
 nor nothin'. It'd be a pretty dull world for 
 some folks, I tell you. Now, your aunt, 
 maybe, is a good woman in her way, but she 
 ain't got the feelin' that we're all brothers 
 and sisters in this world, and oughter give 
 the helpin' hand to one another, and never 
 mind if it's a crust less for yourself. Re- 
 ligion don't p'int that way to her, and she 
 ain't got it natural. I take it she ain't 
 Methody?" 
 
 Ena shook her head. 
 
 "I thought not. Likely she belongs to a 
 church where you have to have silk linin's 
 to your skirt afore you can attend. The 
 way some folks worship is clear insultin' to 
 the Lord. Old Marthy Swiggs down the 
 road here ain't had no proper use for prayer 
 since she had a bit o' money left her, and 
 could come to meetin' with flowers and fol- 
 de-rols in her bonnet. It's wonderful how 
 some folks is willin' to lose their chance o' 
 33
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 salvation for a bit o' vanity. I'm hopin' 
 your clothes don't make you feel that way, 
 Ena." 
 
 Ena shook her head decisively, and Mrs. 
 McLane turned away as if her chief doubt 
 had been set at rest. 
 
 "Just as soon as they get to the wearin' 
 out p'int you can hand 'em over to me for 
 my piece-quilts. I've made one for every 
 child I've got, and I'll likely set about one 
 for you. Now I'm going down to wash the 
 dishes, seein' they've been settin' around 
 hours. If Loosher happened in, which 
 thank the Lord she ain't likely to, she'd 
 sorter sniff with pleasure at catchin' that 
 pan o' dishes. I know the expression of 
 her face so well I can tell it by lookin' at 
 the back of her head." 
 
 Mrs. McLane rattled downstairs, but Ena 
 remained in the bedroom, looking absently 
 at the pretty clothes strewn around her 
 trunk. The fact of their comparative use- 
 lessness had been forced upon her by Mrs.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 McLane's pungent criticisms. Ena stirred 
 uneasily at the remembrance, and could 
 think of no way out of the situation. Things 
 would have to be adapted, not changed. 
 She folded away the clothes with a thought- 
 ful face, listening first to Mrs. McLane's 
 ceaseless admonishings in the kitchen below, 
 and then to Ross nailing up rough deal 
 bookshelves in the little garret he had 
 claimed for his own. The last sound was 
 inspirational, and by-and-by she stole in to 
 the boy. He took no notice of her, and it 
 was not until he had finished that she went 
 up to him. Quite silently they stood to- 
 gether, viewing his work scantily filled 
 shelves which were to be his avenue to 
 heights he meant to attain. 
 
 In a flash Ena saw the way of the boy's 
 dreams opened to her, and her hand stole 
 up to his shoulder. He stood heavily, a dull 
 flush mounting to his cheek, but he under- 
 stood; and thus, without a word, or further 
 sign, the compact of their friendship was 
 sealed for good. 
 
 35
 
 UNCLE ED'S farm (it was usually 
 called Aunt Loosher's) lay some 
 three miles from the McLane house, and 
 was still further isolated from town and 
 neighbours. The house faced a wooded ra- 
 vine of great beauty, through which the 
 river ran, and all around the earth billowed 
 and undulated until it seemed as if the farm 
 were shut all by itself into the little valley. 
 Here Lucia van Orme and her husband 
 had lived and worked since they were re- 
 spectively twenty and twenty-one. No chil- 
 dren had ever been born to them, and, con- 
 trary to Mrs. McLane's advice, they had 
 never adopted any. Uncle Ed had once 
 sided with his sister-in-law in abusing the 
 empty door-yard, and even suggested a visit 
 to an orphanage; but after the departure of 
 Mrs. McLane on that occasion Aunt 
 Loosher had "opened up her mind" to him, 
 36
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and for ever afterwards he had maintained 
 a discreet silence when the subject was men- 
 tioned. Mrs. McLane, who never gave up 
 the hope of reforming those in error, and 
 dearly loved a conversion of any sort, did 
 not scruple to insist on her views, even 
 though she found they met with disfavour. 
 Uncle Ed saw this in time, and used to go 
 out to the barn when the subject came up. 
 Lucia van Orme was now a woman of 
 fifty, unusually tall and gaunt, with a thin 
 sharp face that seemed to match her figure. 
 A life of strenuous work had brought on 
 prematurely the infirmities that belong to 
 age, and for the last three years she had 
 complained daily at the breakfast-table con- 
 cerning the crippled state of her knees. 
 Uncle Ed had listened and commented as 
 regularly as he had sugared his oatmeal, and 
 passed his opinion on the weather; but he 
 never had any suggestions to make. All 
 that sort of thing had to come from Aunt 
 Loosher. 
 
 37
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 It was the Tuesday following Ena's ar- 
 rival that a sort of explosion took place at 
 the Van Orme breakfast-table. Aunt 
 Loosher sat nearer the stove than usual, the 
 little black shawl she wore winter and sum- 
 mer round her shoulders, an extra one 
 wrapped round her knees. She had an- 
 nounced herself lamer than ever on this par- 
 ticular morning. 
 
 "And likely to keep so, with the winter 
 comin' on," she complained to Uncle Ed, as 
 Dale finished his breakfast and went out. 
 "You don't know nothin' about what I suf- 
 fer with these knees o' mine; no one don't. 
 Ju thinks she has a time with her feet, but 
 she ain't got the first idea what a tormentin' 
 time I have with my limbs. There'll have 
 to be somethin' done in the way o' helpin' 
 me, or else I shall give out twenty years 
 afore my time." 
 
 "Anythin' I can do?" 
 
 "You can't do nothin'." Aunt Loosher 
 looked at her husband witheringly. "Your
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 work lays outside, and I'm talking about the 
 inside the cookin', and cleanin', and things 
 that give me so many steps. . If I could 
 have a rest-up this winter I'd be fresh for 
 the spring, yet I hate to pay out the money 
 a hired girl wants, and what's more, I won't. 
 I ain't struggled all my life to fill some- 
 body else's pockets, so that's all there is to 
 it. What I've been thinkin' about will help 
 Ju. She don't deserve it with her foolish- 
 ness, but I ain't one to look over a Christian 
 act when I see it right in my path. I'll 
 take that girl she's brought over from Cal- 
 iforny off her hands." 
 
 The announcement was made with due 
 impressiveness. Aunt Loosher folded her 
 hands and waited for words of praise, but 
 Uncle Ed, taken completely unawares, did 
 not notice what was expected of him. The 
 only thing that appealed to him was the fact 
 that his wife seemed to have yielded to 
 her sister's coaxing at last, and he dimly 
 wondered if the state of Aunt Loosher's 
 39
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 knees had begun to affect her head. 
 
 "I say I'll take the girl off Ju's hands," 
 continued Aunt Loosher with quiet empha- 
 sis, "and then she can't never say but what 
 I give her a lift up once at least. It ain't 
 the lesson that ought to be taught her for 
 doin' the thing. Ju's always been the one 
 to take a step for'ard and two back'ard, in 
 the way o' speakin', but this time I ain't 
 goin' to call her down so pertickler for it. 
 Ena can come here to work, and we shall 
 be savin' a hired girl's wages." There was 
 another pause. Uncle Ed laced his shoes, 
 feeling bewilderment in his very finger-tips. 
 "We shall be savin' and gettin' at the same 
 time," continued Aunt Loosher, "and the 
 sooner she's here the better. Ju's sendin' 
 her and Ross over this mornin', seein' as I 
 couldn't get there Sunday, and so I'll 
 have a chance to look her over and sorter 
 pick my words out ready. What d'you 
 say?" 
 
 The last words were such a concession that 
 40
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Uncle Ed reddened a little as he put on his 
 out-door coat. 
 
 "I'd like to have the girl here," he an- 
 swered. "You do the fixin' up of it, 
 Loosher," he added guardedly, "and then 
 we can see about findin' out how to make 
 her sorter happy and contented here. 
 What'll Dale say?" 
 
 "Dale ain't nothin' to do with it, save 
 feelin' his ma's riddanced of an extry load 
 she couldn't very well bear. It crossed my 
 head that havin' the boy and girl together 
 might make 'em inclined for a bit o' gossip 
 and laziness, but I think I can sit on that 
 all right. Now you be in at twelve to the 
 minute. I've got a busy forenoon, and no 
 time to hang round waitin' for dinner so 
 much as a second." 
 
 All that morning Aunt Loosher worked 
 with an air of subdued triumph, as one sees 
 in secret the solving of a riddle. Towards 
 eleven o'clock she went into the front par- 
 lour and pulled up the shades a strictly 
 41
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 unusual proceeding, the sunlight being 
 rigidly excluded on account of the rag car- 
 pet. The ravine road came into view now, 
 and Aunt Loosher peered out narrowly, but 
 without result. 
 
 "Likely they're takin' the walk easy, but 
 Ross'll surely have sense to be on time for 
 dinner, and me cookin' chicken too! I'll 
 warrant the girl'll feel it's goin' to be a good 
 change for her. This here parlour puts Ju's 
 all to shame. She ain't got never a crayon 
 o' the fam'ly on her walls, and I've got a 
 hull row. Folks ought to have one good 
 room, even if they don't never use it. This 
 carpet ain't no more faded than the day 
 I put it down, thanks to the care I've took 
 of it. Lordy!" 
 
 Aunt Loosher was rarely taken off her 
 guard, but now she stood as if rooted to the 
 middle of the rag carpet, her eyes fixed on 
 the boy and girl who had approached un- 
 seen, and were nearing the yard-gate. 
 
 "For the land's sake!" Aunt Loosher put
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 her hands on her hips and went nearer the 
 window, the better to examine Ena's blue 
 muslin figure and flying curls. Such a 
 dainty apparition had not been seen on the 
 ravine road since the frame house was built, 
 and Aunt Loosher's face soured into a 
 hundred wrinkles as she watched. "My 
 land o' liberty ! Have I been takin' comfort 
 at the thought o' havin' such a child as that 
 around, scrubbin' floors and doin' for me? 
 It's just like Ju's meanness to sit plank 
 down on any o' my schemes, whether she 
 knows 'em or not, and I'll wager she dressed 
 the child up in her good clothes just to be 
 tormentin' to me. My! but if I can get a 
 word with Ed van Orme afore dinner, I'll 
 warn him not to let a word out o' his head 
 o' what I said this mornin'. Else I'm 
 skeered he'll be just rattle-brained enough 
 to do it, and I'll have a time explainin' my 
 knees are some better when they ain't." 
 
 Even an hour later, when the whole family 
 43
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 were seated at dinner and the conversation 
 had grown less restrained, Aunt Loosher 
 had not recovered her equanimity. Her thin 
 figure, in the grey calico wrapper, looked 
 uncompromising, and gave off an atmos- 
 phere of being provoked, which was very 
 unsatisfying. Ena tried to win smiles in 
 vain, and at last turned her attention to 
 Uncle Ed. 
 
 The latter had been duly caught on the 
 back porch when coming in to dinner and 
 hurriedly instructed to maintain silence. 
 
 "She's just a bit o' blue muslin," Aunt 
 Loosher had whispered tragically, "and no 
 more good for a kitchen than an eagle for a 
 back-yard. Ju's been clean imposed on, and 
 I'm goin' over to tell her so." 
 
 But, in spite of all, Uncle Ed grew wist- 
 ful at the dinner-table, when he realized that 
 his hope of the morning was already broken ; 
 and when, after the meal was over, Ena 
 helped to clear off the table and went up 
 quite naturally to wipe the dishes, he won- 
 44
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 dered if Loosher would not see the child was 
 adaptable, and ready to face her change of 
 circumstances in a common-sense way. 
 
 But Aunt Loosher, washing the dishes, 
 had no such idea at all. When the work 
 was done up, and the grey calico wrapper 
 changed for a brown one of similar material 
 and structure, she went into the parlour, 
 where Ross, who knew his manners, was 
 showing Ena the family album. 
 
 "We don't use the front parlour for com- 
 mon." Aunt Loosher straightened a cro- 
 cheted "tidy" and lowered the shades a 
 trifle. "I just pulled these up to watch you 
 two come down the ravine road, and some 
 way my eyes wasn't good or you stole a 
 march on me. P'raps you thought I 
 greeted you surprised-like, Ena. You 
 seemed to come on me all of a sudden, and 
 I ain't one to gather my wits easy, Then 
 my knees bother me all the time, and some 
 days my stomach don't behave good. If I 
 was a bit fleshier I should feel better, but
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 I'm around all the time, and can't take 
 things as easy-goin' as Ju does. That tin- 
 type you're lookin' at is a picture o' me when 
 I was real young, and I reckon I ain't 
 changed as much as you might think." 
 
 "Ma says you keep your figure better 
 than most of the family," said Ross oblig- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I ain't never heer'd you ma say 30," 
 said Aunt Loosher, more pleasantly than 
 she had yet spoken, "but I know it's so. I 
 was always counted pretty smart-lookin' 
 when I was young, and when I have on my 
 good dress it makes a diff'rence to me you 
 wouldn't think for. I wish I could wear it 
 more, but there ain't any chances, 'cept with 
 a funeral, or somethin' o' that sort. I had 
 it made nine years ago last fall, when old 
 man Sorensen died lingerin' with cancer, 
 and it's real becomin'. You'll be over to see 
 me now and again, Ena, and some day I'll 
 get it out and show you. When I was a 
 young girl no one round these parts had 
 46
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 smarter fixin's 'n me I warn't all give up 
 to pork and calico like I am now." 
 
 Ena's blue eyes were interested, but she 
 said nothing, and Aunt Loosher put a 
 mental mark to her credit that she was a 
 polite listener, and not a talkative child. 
 
 "When you've got your own home, and 
 workin' a farm, you ain't got time to think 
 o' makin' yourself smart, and I've always 
 been savin', too, never runnin' no risk o' 
 havin' to be supported by someone else some 
 day. I ain't had no young ones o' my own, 
 but I reckon I could give good advice to 
 anybody else as wanted it." Aunt Loosher 
 looked from the boy to the girl as if ex- 
 pecting an immediate demand. "Dale here 
 says he's learnt quite a few things by notin' 
 my ways o' doin', and I'm real glad he has. 
 I told Ju that, but she snapped me up un- 
 common quick. Ross, you can go down cel- 
 lar and fetch up some apples some o' 
 them Wealthies you'll find down there, for 
 they rot the quickest. And if you're so
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 minded you can take a small basketful 
 home to your ma, for she ain't a tree o' that 
 sort on the place, though I begged her to 
 plant a couple the. year Dick was born. I 
 do believe if anyone but me had persuaded 
 Ju she'd ha' done it, but no, sir! she warn't 
 goin' to have me know best!" and Aunt 
 Loosher laughed softly at some recollection 
 she did not reveal. 
 
 When the apples were eaten, a tour of the 
 house followed, from the cellar up. This 
 took some time, for most of the household 
 treasures were pointed out, and the explana- 
 tion of their origin given at length. Ross, 
 to whom nothing was new, followed a little 
 impatiently, a sense of loyalty to Ena de- 
 taining him. To leave her alone with Aunt 
 Loosher's tongue at full tide seemed an in- 
 justice. Already she looked a little be- 
 wildered. 
 
 A diversion came when they reached the 
 garret, and Aunt Loosher suddenly darted 
 to the window. "I declare to goodness 
 48
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 there's another o' them tormentin' pedlars 
 just drove in the back-yard. I never seem 
 to get up here and go to nosin' round a little 
 and enjoyin' myself but what one o' them 
 fellers comes along. Seems like they know 
 where I am and want to shout 'rags' at me. 
 If it was Ju she'd have 'em dump their 
 stuff so's she could see what was good for 
 carpet-rags, but that ain't my way. Guess 
 I'll have to go clear down and send him off; 
 he wouldn't march so quick for no one else." 
 The garret door shut, but only for a few 
 moments. Aunt Loosher reappeared, gasp- 
 ing a little for breath. "I'm just comin' up 
 to show Ena my carpet-rags. I got nine 
 balls sewed since you were here last, Ross, 
 and two of 'em coloured. You can tell your 
 ma that. Well, it looks like some steady 
 rain afore night, and maybe you two had 
 best start for home in good time, though 
 you've only got a matter o' three mile to 
 walk. You tell your ma we're goin' to hitch 
 up and come over Sunday if so be my 
 49
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 knees'll let me. I got lots to talk to her 
 about" there was a quick glance at Ena, 
 which only Ross saw "and, 'sides that, I 
 guess she'd best plan up for sure about that 
 quiltin'-bee she talks o' havin', if she wants 
 to get her new comforters ready afore snow 
 flies. I'm glad you brought a coat with you 
 against evenin', Ena; that blue dress's tur- 
 rible frail for this sort o' weather, Indian 
 summer bein' most gone. It ain't all sun 
 where you live now"; and as the children 
 stepped off the porch Aunt Loosher shook 
 her head in a way calculated to bring fore- 
 bodings to the sternest heart. She truly 
 felt that so much buoyancy, when combined 
 with blue muslin, ought to receive a sobering 
 suggestion for the last. 
 
 Aunt Loosher was frying potatoes in the 
 kitchen when Uncle Ed came in that night, 
 and she saw him give a quick glance round 
 as he hung up his coat, and she heard him 
 sigh. The sound exasperated her. 
 
 "Maybe you thought that fly-away child'd 
 50
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 come dancin' out to meet you, but no such 
 thing ain't goin' to happen. It takes Ju to 
 hamper herself with such as that. It seems 
 too bad, just the same, that I should be kep' 
 standin' round on my feet when only this 
 mornin' there seemed the chance o' help 
 
 comin'." 
 
 "Dale and me thought Ena seemed real 
 handy," ventured Uncle Ed. 
 
 "Handy nothin'. Children that's been 
 dressed up like that always are just fit to 
 sit round on parlour chairs and be waited on. 
 I can see you're sorter pinin' to fix me up 
 with fresh work, but I've got my head stuck 
 on steady, 'spite o' you and Ju. You can 
 try your best, but it won't work." 
 
 Uncle Ed did not try to make it any 
 more. He went to bed early; but Aunt 
 Loosher sat up late, planning a whole series 
 of caustic remarks which she intended to 
 deliver to Mrs. McLane the very next time 
 she happened to see her. 
 
 51
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A WEEK later the first touch of cold 
 weather came, and Mrs. McLane, who 
 possessed a special faculty for leaving things 
 at loose ends, and an unreasoning faith in 
 the last minute, began to think hurriedly of 
 the quilting-bee she had mentioned on several 
 occasions. 
 
 Aunt Loosher had not arrived on the Sun- 
 day, having sent word by Dale that her 
 knees were not equal to it. Dale had de- 
 livered the message phlegmatically, and Mrs. 
 McLane had sniffed as she washed her milk- 
 pans. 
 
 "I guess she could come if she wanted 
 to, but she thinks more o' posin' as a sorter 
 invalid than anythin' else. It was always 
 Loosher's way to try to draw attention to 
 herself. Now if she had my feet she might 
 have some call to complain. What d'you 
 52
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 think of Loosher's ailments yourself, 
 Dale?" 
 
 But Dale had no opinion to give, and Mrs. 
 McLane began to think she had a stupid one 
 in the family. 
 
 "Have the bee, and don't trouble to send 
 word to Aunt Loosher," Dick advised, when 
 the subject came up at the dinner- table. 
 "If she's sick she can't come, and you say 
 you want the work done pretty badly." 
 
 "I do," Mrs. McLane admitted. 
 
 "You'll get on just as quick without her." 
 Dick kept all the intelligible part of his face 
 in his coffee-cup as he spoke. "Now you 
 take my advice for once, ma." 
 
 "I believe I will," conceded Mrs. McLane, 
 a light in her eye which her children did not 
 entirely misunderstand. 
 
 This being arranged upon, it was a dis- 
 tinct surprise, on the afternoon set for the 
 bee, to see Aunt Loosher drive into the yard. 
 The remains of an early dinner were being 
 cleared away in the kitchen when the twins 
 53
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 rushed to the back steps and shouted the 
 news. 
 
 "Not only come, but the first here," so- 
 liloquised Mrs. McLane, a little ungra- 
 ciously. Then she went to the door just as 
 the buggy drew up in front of it. 
 
 "Thought you was fairly sick abed with 
 them knees o' yourn, Loosher. My! you've 
 give me a surprise." 
 
 Aunt Loosher was descending from the 
 buggy with a certain air of infirmity. 
 
 "George Sorensen was by yest'day, and 
 he told me you'd planned the quiltin' for this 
 afternoon, and I just told Ed I was comin', 
 no matter how I felt," Aunt Loosher 
 responded, giving the reins to the twins. 
 "It seemed clear provokin' that I shouldn't 
 get over to help you." 
 
 "You're the first to get here." Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane pushed a chair nearer the stove, and 
 looked into the coffee-pot. "Set right down 
 by the stove and git warm. Seems as if 
 we've got a real cold spell after the nice 
 54
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 weather we've had. So you're some 
 better?" 
 
 "A little," Aunt Loosher acknowledged, 
 stirring the cup of coffee placed at the back 
 of the stove. "My! this coffee tastes real 
 good, Ju. You always had a sort o' knack 
 with coffee." . 
 
 Mrs. McLane looked mollified. Aunt 
 Loosher peered round. 
 
 "Where's Ena?" 
 
 "You won't see nothin' o' her for a while. 
 She's to school with Ross. I ought to ha' 
 made the twins go, too, but Jerry woke 
 cryin' with the toothache this mornin', and 
 Dan won't never go if Jerry ain't along. 
 Them two young ones stick together all the 
 time, and they're in all the mischief they can 
 find." 
 
 "To school with Ross!" Aunt Loosher 
 heard only the first part of the sentence. 
 "Did she come out here to get her education, 
 Ju?" 
 
 "Guess she's got it a'ready more'ri she'll 
 55
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 find at the district school but she and Ross 
 has took wonderful to each other, and he 
 wants her along. Ross is gettin' real 
 smart with his books, and she helps him 
 nights." 
 
 "Seein' you've took her when you hadn't 
 ought I'd make some use o' her." Aunt 
 Loosher drew the little black shawl closer 
 round her shoulders and fingered it nerv- 
 ously. A very provoking idea had occurred 
 to her only that morning, and she was to 
 know no peace until her doubts were settled. 
 
 "I'd make some use o' her," she repeated 
 with asperity. "What's your notion about 
 the girl, Ju?" 
 
 "She's real nice spoken, and wants to be 
 helpful all she can. I ain't never had no 
 girl round the place, and it seems kind o' 
 
 queer, but " Here Mrs. McLane 
 
 stopped to throw out a pan of dish-water, 
 and Aunt Loosher strained forward, her 
 eyes narrowed to slits of suspicion. 
 
 "If you've brought her out here with any 
 56
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 idea o' my adoptin' her if you done it 
 a-purpose, Ju 
 
 "I ain't been havin' no such notion." Mrs. 
 McLane rattled the stove lids threateningly. 
 "Don't you get any thinner than you are 
 a'ready, worryin' over that, for you can't 
 afford to lose any flesh. I know you're real 
 mad to think she's here, but it's been my 
 motto always to give the helpin' hand to 
 whatever come along needin' it, and I ain't 
 goin' to depart from my ways for nobody's 
 croakin's. Now we've got it right out in 
 the beginnin', Loosher, and if you've rested 
 up we can go in the sittin'-room and begin." 
 
 There was such an air of robust defiance 
 about Mrs. McLane that Aunt Loosher 
 swallowed an answer and meekly followed 
 her sister to the scene of activity, feeling it 
 best to defer some of her intended remarks. 
 
 "There's Marthy Swiggs comin' now," 
 
 said Mrs. McLane, taking observations at 
 
 the window. "And she's brought Mandy 
 
 Perkins along, same as I asked, Prue ain't 
 
 57
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 with 'em, and I'll bet she's a-bed with her 
 insides again. Seems as if no one don't 
 understand what's the matter with Prue. 
 She's been doctorin' for years, and took 
 every patent medicine she ever seen adver- 
 tised, and yet she don't get no better." 
 
 "Ed ain't no great believer in patent medi- 
 cines," remarked Aunt Loosher. 
 
 "But I am," said Mrs. McLane firmly. 
 "The men who makes 'em knows the insides 
 up and down. There's stuff put up for 
 everythin' that ails you, and if you don't 
 know rightly what it is, you best keep tryin' 
 the different dopes, and you're bound to hit 
 it in time. Prue has got forty-'leven bottles 
 on her pantry shelf, but she ain't been lucky 
 in strikin' the right kind yet. She warn't 
 in very good spirits when I last seen her, but 
 I told her to cheer up and keep right on. It 
 ain't no good givin' in now, when she's been 
 
 at it as long as four years " and Mrs. 
 
 McLane hurried out to meet her guests. 
 
 Mandy Perkins was considered the most 
 58
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 expert quilter in the neighbourhood, and this 
 may have accounted for her slight air of 
 superiority. Misfortune had visited her in 
 another way, however, since for something 
 like ten years she had been unable to speak 
 above a whisper. Nobody quite knew why, 
 though disagreeable people had been heard 
 to suggest that the well-known garrulity of 
 her youth had something to do with it. The 
 local doctors had failed to help her, and 
 Mandy's horror of steam-cars prevented her 
 going farther afield for information. So 
 the whisper remained. 
 
 Nobody ever felt ill at ease in the McLane 
 house, and before two minutes had passed 
 wraps were off and work begun. Marthy 
 Swiggs had come in her bonnet with the 
 plum-coloured rose in it, and this she laid in 
 a conspicuous position on the side-table. 
 Mrs. McLane promptly covered it with a 
 Farmer's Journal. 
 
 "If I don't do that the rest of us'll get 
 to envyin' you, Marthy," she explained, the 
 59
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 touch of scorn in her voice that her neigh- 
 bours knew and feared. "You must ha' 
 had more money left you than the rest of us 
 guessed at, for I ain't never seen a shawl 
 over your head since your Uncle Jake died." 
 
 "I've wanted to wear hats ever since I 
 were ten years old," said Marthy content- 
 edly, "and I've got 'em now. Seems like 
 I can't think enough o' Uncle Jake. You 
 know he left a hundred dollars for his tomb- 
 stone, but I added fifty more and now he's 
 got a beauty." 
 
 "Seems I'd use money for somethin' else 
 than hats and tombstones," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane. "It's my way to look at what can 
 be done without in the manner o' showin' 
 off. The hat I wear to meetin' I've had since 
 six year ago last Easter, and I wear it back, 
 front, or sides, accordin' to what fashion is, 
 and no one's ever been the better nor worse 
 for it. I'd feel plumb uncomfortable in 
 anythin' else now, so its bein' shabby don't 
 worry me none. My! you're quicker'n ever 
 60
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 with your fingers, Mandy. I guess you've 
 been quiltin' for yourself some lately." 
 
 "Just a bit," Mandy whispered hurriedly. 
 Her whispers were always very rapid, as if 
 she feared her remarks would be prema- 
 turely drowned by the louder voices of her 
 companions. "Prue and I've got to be busy 
 sewin' all winter." 
 
 "Prue ain't here," suggested Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane. 
 
 "It's one o' her bad days. She took on a 
 good bit about not bein' able to come, but 
 she's gettin' used to them sick spells. It 
 makes it harder for me. Two women 
 workin' the farm and just one hired man 
 ain't none too much. I hold it ain't no good 
 killin' yourself, but it's hard to tell where 
 to stop when things has got to be done." 
 
 "You never was one to look on the cheer- 
 ful side," said Mrs. McLane. "Even 
 though you and Prue ain't married, you've 
 got a good livin' with your farm, and you 
 two can be as independent as you please. I 
 61
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 wonder you ain't never adopted a child." 
 
 Aunt Loosher recognised the thrust. 
 
 "Mandy maybe don't lean that way," she 
 said. "When she's cleaned up now, she's 
 cleaned up, but with a young one round her 
 heels she would be doin' all the time, and 
 no gettin' tidy to keep so." 
 
 "That don't never bother me none," ob- 
 served Mrs. McLane complacently, glancing 
 round the untidy room. "I ain't never been 
 one to finnick. What I can't get done one 
 day goes over to the next, and it don't hinder 
 my sleep any. Ena's took to tidyin' up 
 quite a bit, but I guess she'll soon find out 
 it don't pay. Anybody that's got twin 
 boys knows they make an everlastin' 
 muss." 
 
 Mrs. McLane expected the allusion to 
 Ena would bring a storm of questions, and 
 she was not mistaken. A round of prelimi- 
 nary coughs followed, and then a succes- 
 sion of queries began, all delicately put, for 
 everyone present knew the temperament of 
 62
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 the hostess. But no amount of insinuation 
 conquered Mrs. McLane. She knew her 
 stronghold was silence, and she maintained 
 it. When everyone had asked something, 
 she looked across the room with a provoking 
 smile. "Guess Loosher was talkin' some to 
 you, Mandy!" 
 
 "Loosher 's right, and I ain't never 
 thought o' young ones," whispered Mandy, 
 obeying the suggestion nervously. "Prue 
 couldn't stand -it, anyway, with her insides 
 gettin' worse steady. We ain't all like you, 
 Ju." 
 
 "Thank the Lord I was made easy-going," 
 agreed Mrs. McLane. "I can just see the 
 thing that the day brings and nothin' else. 
 I ain't like old man Davidson that used to 
 live over by Pine Hill, savin' and scratchin' 
 year in and year out, always seein' to-mor- 
 row afore he seen to-day, and then dyin' to- 
 day 'stead o' to-morrow same as he'd 
 planned for. Terrible provokin', it must ha' 
 been. I heard from more than one that he'd 
 63
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 just warmed up to have a real good time 
 and go to see his daughter Lucindy, who 
 he hadn't set eyes on in nine year." 
 
 "I guess it was right," agreed Marthy 
 Swiggs. "Lucindy come to the funeral, 
 and she said he'd boughten a store suit to 
 go in, and been all winter makin' a new- 
 fangled kind o' boat a kinoo, I think she 
 said so's he could make the journey by 
 water." 
 
 "I ain't got no use for a kinoo," said Mrs. 
 McLane. "They're liable to turn over any 
 minute, and be your hat instead o' your 
 seat." 
 
 "We surely get lessons from other folks' 
 ways," Marthy went on, "and it do seem 
 sometimes that it ain't no great way for us 
 to set so much store by what's round us. I 
 mind when Uncle Jake's second wife died, 
 she was plumb tormented at the thought o' 
 havin' to leave her carpet-rags behind. She 
 just tossed and tossed, thinkin' about it, and 
 when she was dead and in her coffin I just 
 64
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 tucked a ball of 'em under her skirt to sorter 
 comfort her." 
 
 "I'll put your bonnets alongside you, 
 Marthy," laughed Mrs. McLane. 
 
 "You don't need to, I'll die easy 'cause 
 I've had 'em," retorted Marthy. 
 
 The work went on apace, though conver- 
 sation flew faster. Ena came in by-and-by, 
 looking round with intelligent but somewhat 
 wondering eyes. Aunt Loosher fidgeted 
 angrily at sight of her, but lingered, loath 
 to leave the scene of so much animation. 
 Even the sight of Dick's face as he came in 
 at intervals to fill the wood-stove did not dis- 
 courage her flow of language. 
 
 "I meant to go early, but I guess I'll stay 
 to supper after all, seein' as it's so near 
 time," she remarked, as Mrs. McLane went 
 into the kitchen. "It does a body good to 
 have a change sometimes." 
 
 "I like this house 'cause there's always 
 plenty doin' in it," whispered Mandy. 
 "You can come in any time, and take your 
 65
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 luck, and no one's going to bother about you. 
 I sorter envy Ju her disposition." 
 
 Aunt Loosher looked disapproval. 
 
 "Ju ain't got no comp'ny ways," she said, 
 in lowered tones. "She never had always 
 despised 'em and used to rate me good and 
 plenty when we was girls if I ever wanted to 
 show folks as far as the front-room. I hold 
 with bein' societyfied once in awhile, to show 
 you've had a bringin' up." 
 
 "We've all got our ways," said Marthy 
 Swiggs soothingly, standing a little way off 
 to view the quilt with admiration. "My! 
 that fried pork smells good, and Ju always 
 fixes a nice gravy." 
 
 "I'm going to give you some o' my 
 pickled crab-apples," said Mrs. McLane, 
 from the pantry. "The boys say they ain't 
 never tasted nothin' nicer. Dale fairly 
 over-did hisself when he was here Sunday. 
 I'll give you the recipe, if you like, 
 Loosher." 
 
 "I got a fine recipe a'ready," said Aunt 
 66
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Loosher, a little huffed. "Next time any o' 
 you folks is over to my place you can try 
 'em. Ed won't have 'em put up no other 
 way." 
 
 "Maybe you ain't never tried," suggested 
 Mrs. McLane annoyingly. "Supper's 
 ready, I guess, and you folks had best quit 
 work. We've done a good afternoon's 
 work more finished than I thought for. 
 You do well to laugh, Dick you that can't 
 hold a needle straight in your fingers. 
 Maybe you think I don't know what you're 
 grinnin' for. Loosher, you set with your 
 back to the stove. I just put a fresh stick 
 o' wood in to get it het up well. You ask 
 the blessin', Ross and give Ena some o' 
 that gravy." 
 
 It was a cheerful meal, and the kitchen 
 seemed all the cosier because the wind blew 
 fiercely outside, sweeping down from the 
 ridge right on to the little farmhouse. 
 
 Ena looked at the circle of faces gathered 
 round the table with frank curiosity, feeling 
 67
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 friends with one and all in spite of the fact 
 that they were strange types and unfamiliar. 
 There was something in their conversation, 
 too, simple as it was, which drew her atten- 
 tion. They did not talk as the aunt in Cal- 
 ifornia talked, but there was something in 
 the way they spoke of things which showed 
 the ability to grapple with daily life bravely, 
 and the courage to smile under adverse cir- 
 cumstances. Their work-worn hands and 
 shrewd seamed faces told a tale even to one 
 as young and inexperienced as Ena; though 
 she did not yet know that these were some 
 of the wonderful women who had tramped 
 forth loyally with their husbands in days 
 gone by to fight the wilderness, northward 
 and westward, for the living they had got. 
 These were things which she was to know 
 afterward, but meantime Ena felt a respect 
 creeping into her heart which caused her 
 fingers to tremble a little as she passed the 
 cake twice to Mandy. She knew there was 
 something in this new element of life she had 
 68
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 entered which was going to attract her. 
 
 "Ena's sorter scared with so much talk 
 goin' on," said Mrs. McLane, who noticed 
 an unusual gravity in her niece, and mis- 
 construed it. "She'll get used to it in time, 
 anyway. M'andy, I want you to take a 
 couple o' slices o' that cake home to Prue. 
 I ain't goin' to have no one feel forgotten 
 just because they can't get here. Mercy! 
 how wild it is out to-night." 
 
 A gust of wind had come shrieking down 
 from the ridge again, and the little company 
 pressed closer round the table sipping their 
 hot coffee. They knew the long Northern 
 winter was coming; already its icy breath 
 could be felt in the air. 
 
 "Snow's goin' to be early," said Aunt 
 Loosher. "I can feel it in my knees. I'm 
 glad none of us are behind any with the work. 
 Land sakes! Winters seem longer'n they 
 used to do." 
 
 " I ain't got that way yet," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, beginning to refill the coffee-cups, 
 69
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I hold that if you forget you're fifty you're 
 liable to keep thirty-five." 
 
 Yet, when the meal had come to a linger- 
 ing, gossiping end, and she stood on the back 
 steps helping to pack her guests into their 
 respective rigs, she shivered a little. There 
 was something bleak and desolate about the 
 hills; something lonesome in the look of the 
 bare, brown fields; and finding Ena on the 
 steps beside her she gripped her hand as if 
 to keep her from it. Together they watched 
 the rigs until the last two were disappearing. 
 
 "I'm glad the quiltin's done, anyway," 
 Mrs. McLane called. "Mandy, now take 
 care o' your throat, and Loosher, you wrap 
 the extry rug round your knees. Guess 
 you're right after all, and we're goin' to be 
 snow-bound afore long!" 
 
 70
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 NEW YEAR brought a storm of un- 
 usual severity, and Ena experienced, 
 for the first time, what genuine winter 
 weather meant. Snow had been lying for 
 three weeks, but no intense cold had come 
 with it; only a white silence, which seemed 
 to envelop everything. 
 
 " You've got a real notion about weather 
 now, with the thermometer twenty below 
 zero," laughed Mrs. McLane, "and I guess 
 you know why we wear such an amazin' 
 sight o' clothes, and talk all the time about 
 keepin' ourselves from freezin'. There's a 
 sayin' about these parts 'when the days get 
 longer, the cold gets stronger,' and it's true 
 enough. You've been at the window most 
 all day, Ena." 
 
 "I like to watch it." 
 71
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 'Taint no such great novelty to me, I 
 think about any poor thing that maybe is out 
 in it. Not that I'm afeared of a storm," 
 added Mrs. McLane contemptuously. 
 "But I'd like to house any belated thing in 
 such weather. I mind me on just such a 
 day as this, about three year ago, I had no 
 less'n five pedlars over-night." 
 
 Ena turned from the window and 
 crouched near the stove, stretching her hands 
 to the warmth. 
 
 "They was most perished," continued 
 Mrs. McLane, stirring the soup vigorously. 
 "It just kep' me busy all evenin', feedin' 
 and lookin' after 'em, for the last three 
 didn't strike the place until after supper. 
 When it got to as many as five I didn't 
 know what to think, but it warn't possible 
 to say 'no' to 'em, and so I told 'em 'come in' 
 as fast as they happened along. Dick 
 seemed some relieved when it 'peared it was 
 goin' to stop at five. When they was fed 
 up they talked a spell round the stove in 
 72
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 the sittin'-room there, and then I got beds 
 fixed up for 'em in the garret, on the floor. 
 A queer-lookin' row, the boys said they 
 made." 
 
 "Did they know about you, Aunt June?" 
 asked Ena innocently. 
 
 "Maybe they did, and if so I'm just as 
 content," said Mrs. McLane. "The next 
 mornin' I took two of 'em with me to 
 meetin', and they seemed real devout, and 
 one of 'em went right up and took the anx- 
 ious seat after meetin' was over. I could 
 see he was real worked up about his soul, 
 though Dick said 'twas all done for polite- 
 ness' sake, 'cause I'd give him bed and 
 vittles." 
 
 "Dick loves a joke," suggested Ena 
 softly. 
 
 "It warn't no subject to joke about. 
 Dick is turrible sarcastic sometimes, if things 
 don't strike him right, and he couldn't see 
 that religion had took a hold o' the man 
 good and hard. I've often wondered if he 
 73
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 got real converted afterwards," finished 
 Mrs. McLane musingly. 
 
 The storm increased as the night deep- 
 ened, and by the time supper was over and 
 the family gathered round the wood-stove 
 in the living-room, nothing could be heard 
 but the shrieking of the wind among the 
 hills. Ena shivered with something like ap- 
 prehension as she helped Mrs. McLane sew 
 carpet-rags. Dick saw her, and laughed. 
 
 "The house is tight, and we shan't get 
 taken up in the storm," he said. "We're 
 bound to get a blizzard or two, or we 
 shouldn't think it was sure-enough winter 
 weather. You put the carpet-rags down 
 and come and help me crack hickory-nuts." 
 
 "I'd like to peep at your father in the 
 lumber-camp to-night," said Mrs. McLane 
 to the boys. "Guess he'll have all the cold 
 weather he wants for a spell, but he ain't 
 one to complain. I misdoubt but what he 
 finds the winter pretty long, though." 
 
 "I wish I'd gone instead," Dick said. 
 74*
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "You could ha' gone with him if Dale 
 hadn't been with Loosher. 'We'll see what 
 next winter brings, but I don't believe Ed'll 
 want to give up Dale for anything; for the 
 matter o' work, the boy may as well be there 
 as here. I count on you all bein' farmers, 
 
 unless it's Ross and Mrs.McLane 
 
 glanced with a sort of speculative interest 
 at the bookworm of the family. 
 
 "It's real lucky you happened to come, 
 Ena," she added, after a moment's thought. 
 "You help Ross quite a good deal with his 
 books, and that means a sight to him. 
 Guess they looked after educatin' you in 
 Californy, whatever else they forgot. 
 Some day, when I'm real sure all the home- 
 sickness is out o' you, I'm goin' to have you 
 tell us about things out there. Hark a 
 minute!" 
 
 The whole family suspended breath, and 
 Mrs. McLane rose excitedly. 
 
 "If that warn't a sleigh-bell my nose ain't 
 on my face," she said. 
 75
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Pedlars," said Dick laconically. "Bring 
 'em all in, ma." 
 
 "Whatever is out is comin' in, you may be 
 sure," retorted Mrs. McLane. "Land 
 sakes ! Marcus, is it you ?" 
 
 Ena looked up to see a ragged figure 
 in the kitchen doorway, icicles hanging from 
 his grizzled beard. 
 
 "It's Marcus," announced Mrs. McLane, 
 the peculiar intonation in her voice which 
 denoted that she would have considered it 
 extraordinary had her hospitality not been 
 taken as a matter of course. "Jerry and 
 Dan, you go help him put up his rig a 
 bit o' snow and wind won't hurt you any, 
 and the man's frozen a'ready. Ross, you 
 get a bowl out o' the pantry. The soup 
 ain't no way cold yet." 
 
 It was some minutes before the family 
 rearranged themselves, the pedlar in their 
 midst. A fresh log had been thrust in the 
 stove, and the man held his hands to the 
 warmth gratefully. Ena watched him with 
 76
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 barely repressed curiosity, grateful that he 
 viewed her in silence. 
 
 "Three years since I were in these parts," 
 he remarked. "And I've rushed round con- 
 sider'ble since then. Seems kind o' home- 
 like to see you 'gain, Mis' McLane." 
 
 "There were five o' you last time," said 
 Mrs. McLane, annoyed to see Dick was 
 grinning over his saucer of hickory-nuts. 
 "And I mind how frozen the hull lot o' you 
 was." 
 
 "Half dead," agreed the pedlar. 
 
 "You had a lame arm," continued Mrs. 
 McLane, her interest in ailments arising at 
 once. "I remember I give you some salve 
 for it." 
 
 "It cured it," Marcus answered. "I 
 guess you make a pretty good doctor. 
 Your hull fam'ly looks well, too." 
 
 "There's a new one since you was here 
 last," remembered Mrs. McLane, apolo- 
 getic for the belated introduction. "I was 
 tellin' Ena about the last time you was here 
 77
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 only this afternoon. Seems as if you've al- 
 ways got to come in a storm." 
 
 "I'm used to 'em," Marcus answered 
 stolidly, viewing the carpet-rags with an 
 appreciative eye. "I got some real pretty 
 pieces o' blue calicky out in the rig there, 
 Mis' McLane. Saved 'em for you since the 
 week afore last, guessin' I'd be by here 
 'bout now. I didn't reckon to come with 
 weather like this, though. New Year is 
 surely started in cold enough for people like 
 me. Now I feel half like gettin' out again 
 a'ready," added the pedlar, putting the soup- 
 bowl aside. 
 
 "You set right where you are," advised 
 Mrs. McLane emphatically, as if she 
 thought he might be in earnest. "Can't you 
 tell me nothin' about that pedlar I took to 
 meetin' last time you was all here that 
 Syrian feller?" 
 
 "I'd like to say he got religion," Marcus 
 responded, busy with a pin and a hickory- 
 nut, "but I'm afeard it wouldn't be right," 
 78
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and he looked at Dick in a way that ex- 
 pressed volumes. "There's lots o' people 
 that sorter fall in with their surroundin's 
 for the minute and then fall out again, and 
 I guess he's one of 'em." 
 
 "Maybe that's just your observation of 
 him, and it ain't really so," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, who disliked to have her delusions de- 
 stroyed. "I just like to have hopes o' 
 everybody all the time until I see they're 
 plumb give up to cussedness. It don't do 
 to judge people over much, 'cause we can't 
 see their innards." 
 
 The pedlar agreed with a readiness which 
 made Ena distrust him a little. Sitting 
 close to the stove with the soup-bowl at his 
 feet, and a saucer of nuts on his knee, he 
 seemed at peace with every side of a ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "And I don't have no suspicions of no- 
 body until they come and plank their doin's 
 in my face," continued Mrs. McLane. 
 "It's a bad way to do to keep your insides 
 79
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 fermentin', and maybe all for nothin'." 
 
 "Me, too," agreed the pedlar, a little ir- 
 relevantly. 
 
 "I've seen my sister Loosher you know 
 the Van Orme place, Marcus? sit and just 
 torment herself with thinkin' 'maybe' about 
 this and that and the other person; losin' 
 good flesh and blood every minute with her 
 foolishness, and gettin' clear snappety 
 'cause in less'n fifteen minutes all her 
 fancies had got to be facts to her. Good- 
 ness knows what her mind's crowded with, 
 or if she rightly knows what is so and what 
 isn't, about the folks around her." 
 
 "When I come here I get my own beliefs 
 and feelin's spoke right out," said the ped- 
 lar fervently. "I often say, " 
 
 Dick coughed, and the sentence was left 
 unfinished. Mrs. McLane, whose attention 
 was suddenly claimed by a tangle in the 
 strips, did not notice the fact, and the ped- 
 lar turned his attention to the twins, who 
 had been impatiently waiting for it. For 
 80
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 the next hour the whole family were kept 
 interested and amused by a series of stories 
 wliich, from their fluency, seemed to have 
 been used not infrequently before. 
 
 "I believe you keep just such yarns a- 
 purpose for times like this," laughed Mrs. 
 McLane; "and it ain't a bad idea. No one 
 ain't never too old for a joke; leastways, 
 if they are, they ought to be laid where 
 they can't hear 'em. Now, you Jerry and 
 Dan, get off to bed. Marcus'll be here in 
 the mornin', and you can coax some more 
 out o' him"; and Mrs. McLane sat with an 
 unusually decided countenance, watching 
 the twins' reluctant feet ascend the stairway. 
 
 Ena remained for half an hour longer, 
 listening attentively to the garrulous mono- 
 tone of the pedlar and the fitful shrieking 
 of the wind. Mrs. McLane, by a series of 
 adroit questions, was obtaining the gossip 
 of the neighbourhood a thing rather diffi- 
 cult to get in the winter-time, what with the 
 bitter weather and the frequently impass- 
 81
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 able roads. Ena listened without under- 
 standing, and soon growing weary crept 
 past Ross (who, between tales of Aunt 
 Lucindy's earaches and the death of George 
 Sorensen's black heifer, was trying to study 
 German) and went upstairs to bed. 
 
 When she woke in the morning the snow 
 lay in little drifting lines across the bright 
 patchwork quilt, filtered in from the un- 
 plastered wall and ceiling. The water in 
 the zinc basin by the bed was frozen solid, 
 and Ena dressed shiveringly. From the 
 window she saw Marcus and the boys clear- 
 ing paths through the drifts of snow, and 
 battling against the rage of the wind as best 
 they could. 
 
 "No meetin' to-day," said Mrs. McLane 
 regretfully, as they sat at breakfast. "It's 
 goin' to be a two-day storm. We'll make 
 meetin' for ourselves, and have it right after 
 breakfast, afore the feelin' sorter gets off'n 
 us." 
 
 So when the meal was over the hymn- 
 82
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 books were produced, and all joined in sing- 
 ing, the pedlar's uncertain bass mingling 
 somewhat whimsically with the clear voices 
 of the children. Mrs. McLane finished the 
 service with a prayer which lasted till the 
 twins grew restive, and a reprimand fol- 
 lowed "the invocation so swiftly that the ped- 
 lar was left in doubt as to where to make 
 the responses. 
 
 There was a general distribution of the 
 family after that. Mrs. McLane, who felt 
 that things spiritual had had first place, and 
 been well attended to, prepared for an en- 
 joyable morning sorting calico pieces with 
 the pedlar. Dick, sitting on the wood-box 
 and supplying the stove at intervals, kept 
 the twins open-mouthed with tales of won- 
 drous adventure by land and sea, and with 
 stories of strange forest animals whose 
 names never could have been found in 
 a natural history book. Ena listened 
 and laughed for a while, but presently 
 slipped upstairs to the garret, where Ross 
 83
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 had lit a little oil-stove, and was studying. 
 
 Here, for the remainder of the day, the 
 two remained, poring assiduously over 
 books, feeling that to be snow-bound was 
 no great calamity, after all, since it gave 
 an unbroken stretch of time for the studies 
 which they were mutually eager to conquer. 
 Ena, being distinctly ahead, had come to 
 take the part of tutor, Ross following sin- 
 cerely and laboriously, anxious to atone for 
 the drawbacks of his environments. Thus 
 they worked together harmoniously, each 
 understanding the motives of the other, but 
 saying little about it. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the snow ceased 
 falling, but the drifts were tossed high by a 
 wind so fierce that it seemed as if it might 
 shake even the sun itself, hanging all day 
 like a blurred lamp in the winter sky. Ena 
 went to the window, looking out on the wild 
 scene wonderingly, and leaving Ross to put 
 the books away. He came to her side when 
 the shelves were straightened, and they 
 84
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 knelt together by the window till the light 
 had faded out, feeling that the garret was 
 a cosy place, and full of possibilities. The 
 day's work had been good, and a fresh line 
 of study had been planned to be carried out 
 while the winter should last. Inspiration 
 had come in the wake of the storm. The 
 first isolation of the snow was full upon 
 them now, and Ross in particular knew that 
 the situation had advantages which should 
 not be missed. Hence, he had thought out 
 his chances carefully, including Ena in all 
 his arrangements, and weaving things! round 
 so as to further their mutual and particular 
 end. 
 
 85
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IT was one night towards the end of Jan- 
 uary that Ena was awakened from a 
 heavy sleep by the consciousness of some un- 
 usual commotion going on downstairs. 
 For a moment she sat up, listening in a 
 dazed way to the clock striking twelve ; then 
 Mrs. McLane's shrill voice sounded up the 
 stairway, calling hurriedly to Dick. 
 
 Ena was downstairs before the tired boy. 
 In the living-room Mrs. McLane was finish- 
 ing a speedy toilet by the light of a single 
 candle. She looked up at the sound of 
 Ena's footfall. 
 
 "It's old Mis' Sorensen," she gasped, 
 struggling angrily with a refractory hook. 
 "George has drove clear across from their 
 place for me to go and help nurse her. He 
 reckons it's a pretty sick spell this time, and 
 Dick's got to go to Creston for the doctor 
 86
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 while I get back with George. There ain't 
 never a soul on the Sorensen place 'cept 
 George and the old lady, and she won't want 
 to be left longer'n can be helped. I was 
 over there when her man died, a matter o' 
 somethin' like nine year ago. Here's Dick 
 comin' now, and I'm glad of it." 
 
 Dick received his commands stolidly, and 
 went out to hitch up without a word of com- 
 ment. 
 
 The January thaw was on, and Ena heard 
 the slow dripping of the eaves as the kitchen 
 door was swung and left open. Dick's 
 lantern zigzagged over to the barn, and in 
 a few moments they heard old Libby's im- 
 patient neigh as she was led out. 
 
 "It do seem plaguey-like that the thaw 
 should ha' started in only this mornin'," 
 said Mrs. McLane, putting the last of sev- 
 eral small bottles in her capacious pocket. 
 "It'll be mighty poor sleighin', and hinder us 
 just so much. I don't rightly know when 
 I'll be back, Ena, but you and the boys can 
 87
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 manage. You've sorter got the way o' the 
 place now, and the boys are awful handy. 
 Everybody's waked up, I guess, but you all 
 better get back to bed again, seein' as Dick 
 can't be home afore mornin'." 
 
 When Mrs. McLane stepped into the 
 sleigh and took her place beside the huddled 
 figure of George Sorensen, Ena and Ross 
 were both on the kitchen threshold. The 
 sleigh slipped off into the darkness, and 
 the children closed the door with a sense of 
 desolation. 
 
 For the rest of that night Ena slept fit- 
 fully, and by six o'clock she was down in 
 the kitchen again. Ross had already made 
 the fires, and cleared away all signs of con- 
 fusion caused by the midnight call. Ena 
 began to prepare breakfast, the pleasant 
 sense of being able to rise to the occasion 
 filling her heart. 
 
 "Dick ought to be home between now and 
 eight o'clock," Ross remarked, as he came 
 in presently from the barn and sat down 
 88
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 to hot coffee and buckwheat cakes. "That 
 is, unless something out of the way keeps 
 him. He's longer on account of the bad 
 sleighing. This thaw is likely to keep up 
 three or four days." 
 
 "But will Aunt June be gone as long as 
 that?" asked Ena, feeling at a sudden loss. 
 
 "Maybe; it all depends on what's the mat- 
 ter. They always send for ma if there's 
 sickness about." 
 
 Breakfast was finished almost in silence. 
 The day had dawned gloomily, and this fact 
 coupled with the absence of the two senior 
 members of the family, had its due effect. 
 Even the twins were slightly subdued, and 
 set out on the long tramp for school with a 
 little less protestation than usual, having 
 coaxed Ena to fill their dinner-pails with 
 extra comforts in the way of "plumcrack" 
 and cookies. 
 
 When Dick came home at length, tired, 
 damp, and hungry, the work of the day was 
 well begun, and the kitchen presented an 
 89
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 air of cleanliness and cheer. Ena, envel- 
 oped in one of Mrs. McLane's gingham 
 aprons, had expended a great deal of en- 
 ergy in reducing things to order, and Dick 
 looked round with appreciation as he sat 
 down in the old rocking-chair by the kitchen 
 stove. 
 
 "You're learning to be a farmer's wife 
 a'ready, Ena," he laughed. "Don't take the 
 apron off; you look good in it." 
 
 "How was Mrs. Sorensen?" 
 
 "Bad." Dick unlaced his shoes slowly, 
 and put them to dry. "It's a real sick spell, 
 the doctor says. I left him there with ma. 
 She was up to her eyes in work, fixin' every- 
 thing around. Guess George has lost his 
 courage. He acts as glad as a child to have 
 ma there. She said she'd stay till it was 
 through, one way or the other." 
 
 Ena went back to her work with an added 
 
 sense of responsibility, and all through the 
 
 long day she toiled valiantly, attacking the 
 
 rooms piece-meal from cellar to garret, and 
 
 90
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 gradually realising that several days of de- 
 votion would be necessary to reduce things 
 to something like order. The house had 
 not, in the proper and respectable sense of 
 the word, a front-room, and even if money 
 had ever been found to suitably decorate 
 such a sanctuary, it would never have held 
 its own, owing to Mrs. McLane's scorn of 
 everything other than the commonplace. 
 
 "I'd sooner have two gingham dresses 
 any day than one sateen," had been her 
 withering retort on one occasion to a neigh- 
 bour who had indulged in the frivolity of 
 sateen; and the remark indicated her whole 
 outlook on life very perfectly. 
 
 Thus the small west room, which should 
 have been dedicated to crayons and crochet, 
 differed from the living-room in only a few 
 details. The newest rag carpet was on the 
 floor, and six superior chairs were or 
 should have been ranged at intervals 
 round the walls. As a matter of fact, the 
 chairs were generally utilised as a sort of
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 trestle for the receipt of divers articles which 
 nobody had time to put anywhere else- 
 two being placed facing each other, and then 
 generously loaded. The arrangement had 
 dazed Ena a little at first, but as it seemed 
 to be a habit of several years' standing she 
 had never ventured a remark on the subject. 
 
 Now that it had come to a question of 
 cleaning the room, however, Ena paused in 
 the doorway with a speculative eye, wonder- 
 ing if it were possible in a single day to 
 unearth the wealth of material that was bid- 
 ing its time in this tentative fashion. The 
 Sunday clothes of the entire family formed 
 a top layer, and beneath these were an as- 
 sortment of other articles not to be easily 
 named or placed. 
 
 "You'd better leave it," Ross advised, 
 coming in at the moment, and finding Ena 
 with the finger of indecision on her lips. 
 "I tried it once, but got disheartened." 
 
 "It's too late to-day," Ena admitted. 
 "I'll get up extra early to-morrow morning.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 I want to have everything nice and straight 
 for Aunt June, because she'll need a rest- 
 up after nursing." 
 
 So the whole of the next day was given to 
 house-cleaning, and by supper-time Ena 
 ached in every limb. Ross, who had shared 
 her labours, insisted on getting the meal, 
 half-proud of his ability, half-anxious for 
 the tired girl. Dimly he felt the difficulty 
 of her struggle with the things that were 
 common to his own life. 
 
 "Liz Elder licked the plumcrack off my 
 bread," complained Jerry at the supper- 
 table, helping himself to the dainty very 
 liberally. "She got to my dinner-pail 
 some way or another. I'm going to fix her 
 for it to-morrow, so don't you interfere if 
 you're to school, Ross." 
 
 "I'll be here," Ross ventured. "Ma's 
 not coming back to-night." 
 
 This proved to be true, though the even- 
 ing was spent in a sort of expectancy, lis- 
 tening for sleigh-bells. Nothing was to be 
 93
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 heard, however, save the slow dripping of 
 the eaves. The day had been grey and 
 lowering, and everybody longed for the 
 thaw to end. 
 
 Late the next afternoon the Sorensen 
 sleigh drove into the yard, and Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane stepped out, a subdued air about her 
 which told its tale immediately. Without 
 a word the children made a place for her by 
 the stove, and she sat down wearily. 
 
 "I was real sorry to say good-bye to Mis' 
 Sorensen," she said at last, her eyes heavy 
 with the recollection of the scene she had 
 just passed through. "It's another old set- 
 tler gone, and I guess the funeral'll be a 
 pretty big one spite o' the weather. It'll 
 seem queer to pass by the Sorensen place 
 and not see the old lady round ; she was that 
 sociable it seemed sorter homelike even if 
 you'd only time to stop for a few words 
 with her. She had a fine mem'ry, too, and 
 many's the tale I've heard her tell about 
 the early days in these parts."
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Mrs. McLane took the cup of tea Ena 
 brought and stirred it thoughtfully. An 
 unusual silence had fallen upon the little 
 group round the stove. Ena sat with her 
 chin in her hands, leaning forward to 
 listen. 
 
 "She was a mighty plucky woman," con- 
 tinued Mrs. McLane, "and shirked nothin' 
 that come in her way. You children ain't 
 got but a small conception o' some o' the 
 things that had to be faced when these parts 
 was first settled. Things is sorter comfort- 
 able now, but in them days it warn't no 
 such story. When the Sorensens first took 
 up title to their land they had to build them 
 just a shanty o' logs and a roof o' hem- 
 lock boughs, to start with. The door was 
 a blanket, and there warn't no winder at 
 all. They had the deer chasin' round by 
 day and the wolves kep' 'em comp'ny at 
 night. A bear took a sack o' meal from 'em 
 one night and killed the only pig they had. 
 The Indians warn't none too friendly, 
 95
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 neither, seemin' to sniff a'ready at what was 
 comin' later. I've heard Mis' Sorensen 
 laugh about it all many a time, she bein' 
 one to turn up her sleeves when trouble 
 come along and fight it good and plenty. 
 It ain't but right to say that old man Sor- 
 ensen was proud o' his woman." 
 
 Mrs McLane wiped her eyes on her pet- 
 ticoat and sipped her tea again. 
 
 "And there was the time when their claim 
 was jumped," she went on. "In them days 
 they used oxen in the lumberin' business 
 up to Lake Superior, and one time the Sor- 
 ensens undertook to drive six yoke up there, 
 a clear hundred and fifty miles through the 
 woods, and nothin' more in their heads to 
 guide 'em than what the birds have. They 
 made the journey all right, havin' one ad- 
 venture and another, same as you might ex- 
 pect, considerin' the undertaking but it 
 warn't to be wondered at that they was all 
 tuckered out when they got back. Then 
 they found fresh trouble, in the shape o' 
 96
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 somebody havin' jumped their claim and 
 established theirselves quite comfortable- 
 like in the shanty, and also improved it 
 some. That set Mis' Sorensen's blood afire. 
 It used to be real good to hear her tell of 
 her feelin's here Mrs. McLane re- 
 lapsed into a moment's laughter "and how 
 war just fired up in her blood right away. 
 Seems it was old Packard and his two sons 
 boys about fifteen and sixteen, maybe 
 who'd done the thing, and they announced 
 they warn't goin' to quit, havin' taken some 
 trouble over puttin' things a bit into shape. 
 Sorensen was for goin' to the committee 
 to straighten things out, but Mis' Sorensen 
 wouldn't hear to that amount o' delay. 
 She could use firearms as well as anyone, 
 and though the old man and his boys had 
 made a sort o' little garrison o' theirselves 
 in the shanty, she was determined to have 
 'em out without a bit o' waitin' for it. Sor- 
 ensen caught her notion just by lookin' 
 once at her face, and he fell to with her, and 
 97
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 they had a pitched battle right there. The 
 door was drove clear to the middle of the 
 room with a batterin' ram, and old Packard 
 had a flesh wound in his arm afore he'd had 
 time to draw his breath straight. Guess 
 they felt some superstitious about the way 
 Mis' Sorensen carried all afore her, for it 
 warn't but a few minutes till they cut and 
 run to the woods. When the Sorensens 
 had got things straightened out a bit and 
 put aside what didn't belong to 'em, Mis' 
 Sorensen took pains to hunt old Packard up 
 and dress his arm and sorter tell him she 
 wouldn't ha' done it if she could ha' helped 
 it. Anyway, the bad feelin's wore down 
 after a bit, and in less than a couple o' 
 months the two fam'lies was livin' real 
 peaceable together as neighbours, and that 
 lasted till old Packard died." 
 
 "I've heard the two Packard men say 
 there was no outdoin' Mis' Sorensen in the 
 way o' bein' hospitable," remarked Dick, 
 the spirit of tribute-paying upon him also.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Hospitable, I should say!" endorsed 
 Mrs. McLane. "It's a pity the old pioneer 
 spirit seems as if it warn't sometimes just 
 what it used to be. I ain't complainin', 
 but I remember such good times that I hope 
 they won't never die out. Everybody had 
 to give the helpin' hand then, and they 
 wanted to. It just warms me clear to the 
 middle to think about it. Mis' Sorensen 
 told me she accommodated two extry 
 fam'lies in that shanty o' hers the second 
 spring people who had took up claims and 
 was waitin' to build cabins. It was close 
 quarters for everybody, I reckon, but that 
 didn't matter none, since the right spirit 
 was there. Besides this, travellers on the 
 lookout for land stopped along continual, 
 and they got a good welcome every time. 
 Three men who was there for a week once, 
 finally took up a quarter-section a good 
 seven miles away, and all that spring Mis' 
 Sorensen baked bread for 'em, they fetchin' 
 it once a week. That meant a round trip 
 99
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 o' fourteen miles through the woods, with 
 never a bit o' road, and the wolves followin' 
 them many a time, close enough to be 
 troublesome. Life warn't all cider and 
 hickory-nuts in them days, but I can tell 
 you people enjoyed theirselves, just the 
 same." 
 
 A log fell heavily in the stove, and Mrs. 
 McLane roused herself from reminiscence 
 with a jerk, setting her empty cup aside. 
 
 "The funeral's to be day after to-mor- 
 row," she said energetically. "Let's look 
 up all the bits o' black we've got. Mis' Sor- 
 ensen was a great one to believe in a funeral 
 bein' fixed real decent and proper, and no 
 goin' to it as if you was just givin' your 
 good clothes an airin'. She was never one 
 to visit, neither, at such times said it made 
 her feel sorter mean to when there was one 
 that had to lie so quiet. I'd kind o' like 
 to follow out her notions now that she ain't 
 able to plan for herself; then we can't never 
 feel she was shamed-like at the way in which 
 we took good-bye of her for good." 
 100
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 4 4fTlHE sap's started in the maples." 
 
 A Ross flung the reins aside as he 
 spoke, and ran up the steps to where Ena 
 stood in the kitchen doorway, shading 
 her eyes from the bright March sunshine as 
 she looked out over the ridge. 
 
 "The sap's started," he repeated, more 
 softly. "Now you can go down with us to 
 the sugar-bush, Ena, and see the trees 
 tapped." 
 
 "I'd like to help," Ena said quickly. 
 
 "You can watch us first." Ross spoke 
 cautiously, being still quite unable to think 
 of Ena as a worker, notwithstanding the 
 fact that she had evidenced to the contrary. 
 His mother's matter-of-fact attitude to- 
 wards his wonderful cousin was a source of 
 distress to him; he thought that anybody 
 101
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 who could accept Ena as belonging to the 
 ordinary course of things was lamentably 
 lacking in discrimination. 
 
 "Of course I'll have to learn," Ena 
 agreed ; "but after I've been trying to make 
 sap-spouts I want to know how they are 
 used. Dick says there's no time in the year 
 he likes better than the week he's down in 
 the woods boiling the sap." 
 
 "It means the first notion of spring," 
 Ross said, "and that seems good after 
 you've had the snow lying for three months. 
 I'm always tired of sleighing by the middle 
 of March." 
 
 There was an extra commotion in the 
 house all morning, owing to the news Ross 
 had brought. Mrs. McLane, who always 
 rose to an occasion volubly, gave a stream 
 of suggestions and directions to which no 
 one paid any particular attention, Dick and 
 Ross being quietly engaged over necessary 
 preparations. 
 
 "We'll have a good sugaring-off party 
 102
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 this year, so as Ena can enjoy herself," 
 the twins suggested, trying to keep the per- 
 sonal note out of their voices. 
 
 "We'll tend to the business part first," 
 said Mrs. McLane. "The fun comes later, 
 and I ain't as deceived by the way you put 
 it as you might think," she added snappily, 
 reviewing her small sons with an enlighten- 
 ment that surprised them. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the next day be- 
 fore Ena and the twins set out, full of the 
 delicious promise that they could spend the 
 night in the sugar-shanty. The sleighing 
 down to the woods was bad, for the end of 
 March had come, and the winter was break- 
 ing up, but not one of the three concerned 
 themselves over their occasionally difficult 
 progress. 
 
 "We ought to have gone yesterday," Dan 
 complained, when once he was well out of 
 his mother's hearing. "Last year we went 
 do\vn the first day, and Jerry and I lit the 
 fire in the shanty, and cleaned it out, while 
 103
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Dick and Ross tapped the trees. Half the 
 fun's over the second day." 
 
 This view of the case seemed to dwindle, 
 however, when once their destination was 
 reached. Dick and Ross had been active, 
 and work was* in full progress. Ena 
 stopped for a moment among the trees to 
 watch the sap dripping slowly from the 
 spouts, and her eyes were wide with wonder 
 by the time she reached Dick. 
 
 Near the shanty the fire had been built, 
 and the sap-pan was bubbling over it. In 
 the distance the slow trailing of the pung 
 could be heard, and Ena lifted her head to 
 listen more closely as she stood warming 
 her hands. 
 
 "Ross is emptying the sap-troughs," 
 Dick volunteered, as the twins rushed off. 
 "He'll be back from his round of the trees 
 before long, and you can go with him next 
 time. Sit down a minute, and get warmed 
 up." 
 
 "Do you have to watch this all the time?" 
 104
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Ena peered over the edge of the sap-pan. 
 
 "Sure." Dick gave another stir to the 
 bubbling contents. "I'm going to take a 
 rest before Ross goes, and then I'll be up 
 all night with it. That's the time I like 
 best." 
 
 Ena looked at him curiously. 
 
 "Owls hooting, and every now and again 
 something stirring in the bushes." Dick 
 laughed. "It makes me feel good. I can't 
 exactly explain it, but you'd know what I 
 mean if ever you'd sat up the night through 
 in the woods. I'd rather be under a tree 
 any night than in my bed. So would 
 Ross." 
 
 Ena still looked a little mystified. 
 
 "You ain't been used to that style of 
 thing," Dick continued, moved a little from 
 his usual taciturnity, "but we've got the 
 woods right in our blood, and they're home 
 to us any time. See what I shot last night." 
 
 Ena looked at the raccoon-skin nailed to 
 the wall of the shanty. 
 105
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Got just a little too near," Dick ob- 
 served, stirring again. "I'll teach you to 
 handle a gun next fall, Ena. You'll likely 
 make a good shot, and it's a thing a girl 
 ought to know, anyway, when she's living 
 close to pioneer country." 
 
 Dick stopped to push fresh logs under the 
 pan, and Ena opened the door of the shanty. 
 All was neat within, and a fire crackled in 
 the wood-stove. The bunks had been 
 strewn with fresh cedar-boughs and covered 
 with quilts. Everything showed the touch 
 of Ross's hands. 
 
 Dinner was due in less than an hour, and 
 Ena set about its preparation, leaving only 
 the coffee to Dick, who promised to make it 
 with sap. Just as the meal was ready Ross 
 came up, and Ena ran out to the pung to 
 call him in, laughing at the novelty of house- 
 keeping in the woods. 
 
 "You'll be able to make sugar yourself 
 next year," Ross smiled, stooping to wash 
 his hands in the melting snow. "Let's go 
 106
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 in to dinner now. I don't think anything 
 ever smelt so good." 
 
 The little log shanty rang with laughter 
 during the meal. Ena's presence was an in- 
 spiration to the boys, and her faculty for 
 seeing a certain amount of play in any and 
 every kind of work had appealed to them 
 from the first. No one was helped by this 
 unaccustomed lightsome element more than 
 Ross, who, as his mother said, "had been 
 born thinkin', and never stopped since." 
 
 "I thought at first you'd be so homesick 
 and lonesome you wouldn't be able to live," 
 he said to Ena, when the meal was over 
 and the round of the trees had begun again. 
 "I guess, though, that you think more about 
 rising up to things than falling down in 
 front of them," he added, with a sigh of re- 
 lief. 
 
 "I don't like cry-baby people." Ena 
 looked at the contents of the sap-trough 
 sliding into the barrel. "I felt lonely the 
 
 first week, but after that " 
 
 107
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 She said no more, but the two walked a 
 little closer together under the maples, and 
 Ross was content to talk only about the 
 matter in hand; letting Ena help him in 
 the work now and then, and answering the 
 hundred questions propounded by her al- 
 ways inquiring mind. 
 
 Long after he had gone that night, when 
 the twins were asleep in their bunks, and 
 Dick was sitting alone in the darkness out- 
 side, Ena lay and thought over his words, 
 feeling glad that he always understood so 
 easily. She smiled happily at the wood-fire, 
 throwing dancing streaks of light all over 
 the shanty, and then she stretched her head 
 near the open window to peer at Dick. He 
 was sitting with his gun across his knees, 
 his eyes on the sap-pan and the underbrush 
 alternately, and an expression of unmiti- 
 gated contentment on his face. Ena curled 
 under the old patchwork quilt with a sense 
 of being well guarded, and fell asleep al- 
 most at once, not to waken until morning. 
 108
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Ten days later the sugaring-off party 
 took place, and the twins felt their hearts' 
 desire was realised. The work in the woods 
 had been well enough, but it was as nothing 
 to the joy of the finish, and the energy they 
 expended in preparations for the event 
 caused Mrs. McLane secret gratification. 
 
 "They ain't never been so useful in 
 fetchin' and carry in' before," she laughed 
 to Ena. "It do seem you ought to make 
 folks happy afore you expect 'em to be 
 good." 
 
 The night was moonlight, and warmer 
 than usual, though the snow was deep 
 enough for sleighing still. Ena stood at the 
 door of the shanty, watching the guests ar- 
 rive. Two bob-sleighs held all, and the 
 maple-woods rang with laughter as they ap- 
 proached. 
 
 "You ain't never been to a party o' this 
 
 sort before, Ena," said Mrs. McLane, 
 
 bustling about. "If you notice the manners 
 
 ain't citified you can recollect the hearts is 
 
 109
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 good. The very first one I see is Loosher 
 
 none so crippled after all " And 
 
 Mrs. McLane hurried off. 
 
 Ena felt a tap on her arm, and turned 
 round to see Uncle Ed. 
 
 "You ain't been to see us again this 
 winter," he said gently. "If it hadn't been 
 for Dale comin' to and fro with reports I 
 should ha' thought you'd gone back to Cal- 
 iforny again. 
 
 "I've been going to school," Ena ex- 
 plained, "and another thing, the snow has 
 been so deep. Aunt June says it reminds 
 her of the winter the twins were born, when 
 the snow was over the fences." 
 
 "So it was," agreed Uncle Ed. "There 
 was one or two deaths by freezin' that 
 winter, and we was gettin' snow-bound con- 
 tinual. Everybody had just to stop about 
 their own places, 'cept Saturdays, and then 
 o' course it didn't seem like livin' if you 
 couldn't get to town. That's the real treat 
 in the week to most o' the folks goin' to 
 110
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 town Saturdays, and hitchin' up in front o' 
 the stores, and talkin' all the news that ever 
 happened or is goin' to happen. That and 
 the funerals is all the outin' most of us 
 gets." 
 
 "Except parties like these," suggested 
 Ena. 
 
 "Yes," Uncle Ed agreed. "There's times 
 in the year when a gatherin' or two takes 
 place, but it ain't so often. I like it myself; 
 not for the dancin' about, and the sugar- 
 eatin', but because everyone comes in such a 
 real smilin' state o' mind. It makes me 
 feel as though it ain't so mighty hard to 
 keep your best side turned up top, after 
 all." 
 
 "We don't practise enough," Ena 
 laughed. 
 
 "I guess you do." Uncle Ed looked 
 down at the bright face, and sighed pro- 
 foundly to think that the inability to scrub 
 floors had barred so much sunshine from his 
 home. "You don't have to practise, 
 111
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 though," he added. "You've got it nat- 
 ural." 
 
 Ena moved from the doorway presently, 
 and joined the laughing group round the 
 sap-pan. Marthy Swiggs was one of them, 
 the plum-coloured rose nodding gaily in her 
 bonnet as she watched Ross strew the hot 
 sap in the snow. It sugared, and the chat- 
 tering crowd on the logs clapped hands and 
 began the feast. Ena remained near her 
 aunt, listening to her flow of remarks. 
 
 "The years do go remarkably fast," said 
 Mrs. McLane, dividing her attention be- 
 tween her saucer and Uncle Ed. "It seems 
 but a short enough time ago since Rob Mc- 
 Lane and I was at a sugar-feast down by 
 the Swiggs's place, and he first give me the 
 notion that he wanted me and him to hitch 
 up. I hadn't no notion then o' keepin' 
 steady comp'ny with him, for he was 
 sombre-like, and no hand to give his smiles 
 away for nothin'. He real surprised me by 
 the way he talked that night, and I sorter 
 112
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 glimpsed his innards in a way I hadn't 
 never done before. Seemed as if I stopped 
 thinkin' all of a sudden about the value o' 
 easy smilin', and took to considerin' what a 
 glummer face might mean. I misdoubt but 
 what he meant I should," added Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, a little ruffled by the suspicion, "but 
 then I ain't never been sorry he got over 
 me that way." 
 
 "Seein' the young folks slidin' away to- 
 gether surely gets us lookin' back," sighed 
 Uncle Ed. "It makes anyone sorter wish 
 the good feelin' o' courtin' days didn't get 
 so soon drownded in hogs and pertaters." 
 
 "But you was always a bit flighty," ob- 
 jected Mrs. McLane. "It ain't no good 
 havin' things to say agen what brings you 
 your livin'. As for the young folks, they 
 ain't got it all on their side. There's lots 
 to live for all the time, and we don't never 
 get to feelin' so old as we think we'll do. 
 Land sakes! Is that Dick goin' off with 
 the Hetherbridge girl?" 
 113
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Sure enough." Uncle Ed peered 
 through the trees with a smile. "Loosher'll 
 say you've got your trouble comin', Ju." 
 
 "Trouble nothin'." Mrs. McLane 
 scraped her saucer with relish, and ceased 
 to regard the departing pair. "Bess Heth- 
 erbridge is all right made her own clothes 
 since she was 'leven, and cooks good be- 
 sides. It ain't nothin' serious anyway; just 
 a bit too much sugar-eatin' made 'em feel 
 sorter sentimental. Now you help me 
 search, Ed, to see if by chance anyone has 
 got a jug or two in the sleighs. If so, we'll 
 fill 'em up with maple syrup, and you can 
 find Ross and Ena, and tell 'em to help 
 us quietly. Is that them goin' off too? 
 Well, never mind they only talk book- 
 learnin', anyway." 
 
 But it was not book-learning that was 
 talked under the maple-trees that night, for 
 the thought of the school-room was far 
 enough away from the mind of both boy and 
 girl. The spirit of the woods was on Ross, 
 114
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and for the first time in his life he talked 
 to someone who drew out his halting 
 thoughts and interpreted his dreams. 
 Back and forth they paced the snowy paths 
 until the party by the fire broke up, and 
 Ena was called to take her place in the 
 sleigh. She slid down among the rugs re- 
 luctantly, feeling suddenly ill at ease among 
 her companions; and Ross went back to the 
 fire to stretch on one of the empty logs, and 
 feel that some of his boyish dreams had 
 taken a vague shape at last. 
 
 115
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IT was one afternoon towards the latter 
 part of April that Ena, returning home 
 from school with the boys, noticed an un- 
 usual atmosphere about the house as she 
 approached. The kitchen window was open, 
 and the sound of Mrs. McLane's voice, talk- 
 ing fast and furiously, could be heard with 
 great distinctness. For a moment the chil- 
 dren paused; then Jerry, with a shriek of 
 delight, pointed to an old mackinaw hang- 
 ing on a nail of the wood-shed. 
 
 "Father's home!" 
 
 There was a rush round the side of the 
 house for the kitchen steps, and a sudden 
 bursting open of the door. Ena, left be- 
 hind for a moment in the excitement, heard 
 a gruff voice welcome the boys, and then 
 her own name was called. She went for- 
 116
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 ward, and was drawn into the circle round 
 the old kitchen rocking-chair. 
 
 "So this is the girl Ju notioned to adopt," 
 Robert McLane said in his slow way. "We 
 ain't never had a daughter, and I'm real 
 glad to see you here, Ena." 
 
 Something brought a mist to Ena's eyes, 
 which she was fain to rub away surrepti- 
 tiously with the back of her hand. She 
 looked at the unknown uncle more closely 
 as the twins clambered on to his knee, and 
 found him familiar at once, since he looked 
 like Dick grown older. There was a weary 
 stoop to the shoulders which caught her 
 sympathy, and involuntarily she looked at 
 the table. 
 
 "I'm just settin' a meal," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, "and I guess we'll all eat early to- 
 night. Now, you boys, get off your 
 father's knee, and help set the table while he 
 rests. You look clear tuckered out, Rob." 
 
 "Just that." 
 
 Robert McLane went over to the bench, 
 117
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and dipped the zinc basin full of water. 
 Ena, frying the potatoes, watched his tall 
 figure and his slow, heavy movement with 
 interest. He was very much what she had 
 imagined him to be, though there was a 
 gentleness in his manner which she had 
 hardly expected. 
 
 Dick came in just as the steaming food 
 was placed on the table, and for the first 
 time in many months the family sat down 
 complete, excepting for Dale. 
 
 "He'd like uncommon to be here if he 
 only knew," said Mrs. McLane regretfully. 
 "Never mind, however, for to-morrow's Sat- 
 urday, and it ain't so long to wait, since 
 he don't know. My! the winter seemed 
 sorter long this year, and half the time the 
 thermometer was down to zero and below. 
 I guess there's been some stove-hugging 
 evenin's in the loggin'-camp." 
 
 "Lots of it." Robert McLane emptied 
 a cup of coffee with relish, and passed it for 
 refilling. "We ain't had a harder winter in 
 118
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 years up north, but we cut some splendid 
 timber. Still, the woods gets sorter lone- 
 some when you're in 'em so long. Lots o' 
 times when the lumbermen got to telling 
 yarns about home it kinder made me think 
 too much about the farm here. Guess we 
 was all glad enough when we broke camp, 
 and started down the tote-road." 
 
 "You ain't so fleshy as when you went 
 away," said Mrs. McLane. "Did they feed 
 you good?" 
 
 "Pretty good, but it ain't home. I've 
 been sorter hankerin' for the kitchen here, 
 and the wood-pile, and old Libby's neigh, 
 for a month past. I felt sorry for the fel- 
 lers who went on the drive." 
 
 "Had it started when you left?" asked 
 Dick. 
 
 "The river-landing had, but they won't 
 break the roll-ways for another week. 
 They'll have a big drive this year. We had 
 two and a half million on one landing. 
 Ashby's was the only logs put into the 
 119
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Drake this year. Best firm I ever worked 
 for." 
 
 "It's hard enough anyhow," said Mrs. 
 McLane. "Take another dough-nut, Rob. 
 Lucky I made a hull mess of 'em yesterday." 
 
 "They taste extry good, too. Our cook 
 was all right, but nothin' ain't like home. 
 Spring's here for sure, and farm work'll 
 seem just the thing. I'm sorter hungry to 
 get out and see everythin'." 
 
 "Leave pokin' 'round till to-morrow," ad- 
 vised Mrs. McLane. "I never seen you 
 quite so beat afore." 
 
 Rob McLane laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 "You're on the lookout for somethin' to 
 doctor, Ju, but I ain't liable to become a pa- 
 tient. Just a day or two loiterin' round 
 the place afore I start work, and I shall be 
 all right. I'm goin' out now to watch Dick 
 milk." 
 
 Ena had imagined that the home-coming 
 of her uncle would make a considerable 
 change at the farm, but it was not so. The 
 120
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 slow, silent man seemed as if he might have 
 resolved long ago to leave the conversational 
 side of life to his wife. He came and went 
 unobtrusively, attending to his work always, 
 but rarely speaking of it. 
 
 This annoyed Mrs. McLane at times. 
 "Your father don't spit out no thoughts to 
 make room for new ones," she had once 
 complained to Dick. "He's awful different 
 from me. A thing ain't clear to me till I've 
 talked it round and round. It's one o' Rob 
 McLane's tormentin' ways that he don't 
 have no social times over his actions." 
 
 Dick, however, had not proved sympa- 
 thetic; indeed, time had developed taci- 
 turnity with him also. 
 
 Still, there were evenings in the first week 
 or two after the homecoming when Robert 
 McLane was coaxed to talk at length, and 
 Ena would creep as close to him as the rest 
 to hear stories of the lumber-camp and the 
 various experiences of the woods. He al- 
 ways talked slowly, his pipe in and out of 
 121
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 his teeth, but what he said was good, and 
 the tales were never long enough for the 
 listeners. Ena, especially, tried to draw 
 out their length. 
 
 "You're most as fond o' lumber- jack 
 yarns as the twins," he said to her one night 
 laughingly. "What makes it, d'you sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 Ena shook her head. 
 
 "I guess it's 'cause you reckon it out o' 
 the common. It's wonnerful the way a 
 thing they ain't used to fascinates a young 
 one. When Jerry and Dan here get to 
 goin' in the woods theirselves there won't 
 be none so much eagerness about it all. 
 I'm not sayin', however, but what there's 
 things about it that I like myself. It kinder 
 takes my breath to stand in among the tall 
 timber and sorter listen to the silence o' the 
 forest." 
 
 Before a week was gone Ena and her 
 uncle had become firm friends. Very few 
 words were ever exchanged between them.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Often they were content to sit or walk to- 
 gether quite silently, but their comradeship 
 was none the less perfect. Only one who 
 knew Robert McLane intimately could ever 
 see how his face softened when the girl 
 would deliberately choose to be beside him. 
 
 With the coming of spring Ena found 
 things at the farm changed considerably. 
 Life in the open air began, and school be- 
 came a more irregular thing than it had been 
 even in the depths of winter. Ross's love of 
 the outdoor kept him from sighing, but in 
 the evening he endeavoured to make up. 
 
 "And you don't want no more schoolin', 
 anyway," said Mrs. McLane complacently 
 to Ena. "You can start reg'lar again after 
 the summer vacation, if so be you want to, 
 but till school lets out for good it'll be go 
 a day and stay away a day sort o' thing. I 
 don't hold with a girl bein' too mighty smart 
 unless she's thinkin' to study for a school- 
 marm. Did you ever have that notion, 
 Ena?" 
 
 123
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Mrs. McLane paused in her dish-washing 
 to propound the query. Ena looked a little 
 bewildered, and sought for words in vain. 
 
 "I ain't never thought o' such a thing 
 afore, either," said Mrs. McLane. "It just 
 struck my head same as a brick might. I 
 don't see much good to the idea, but if you 
 sorter hankered after it later I guess you're 
 smart enough to start in, even if you didn't 
 know no more than what you've learned 
 a'ready. For my part, I'm glad enough I 
 learned to cook and sew, and I don't bother 
 none 'cause I ain't done no picture-paintin' 
 and things o' that sort. If a woman knows 
 how to keep house good she don't need to 
 bother." 
 
 "But there's lots of other pleasant things 
 to do, too," suggested Ena, vigorously wip- 
 ing the milk-pans. 
 
 "Some of 'em's a mighty waste o' time," 
 
 sniffed Mrs. McLane. "I can recollect, five 
 
 or six years back, when Loosher took a 
 
 streak she'd like to be real genteel. Seems 
 
 124
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 there was some club or other up in Creston, 
 and Loosher j'ined it, thinkin' there would 
 be lots o' good in it for her. It was run 
 by a woman who seemed to ha' got sick o' 
 the plain ways o' livin', and had run to fancy 
 notions, as you might say. However, 
 Loosher asked me to go to one o' their 
 meetin's, and I agreed, and took some car- 
 pet-rags to sew, thinkin', o' course, there 
 wouldn't be no foolishness o' sittin with our 
 hands lyin' idle in our laps for an hour or 
 more. 
 
 "When I got there I found I was the 
 only woman who'd had the common sense 
 to bring somethin' to while away the time 
 with. Loosher looked at my bag real scan- 
 dalised like, and whispered to me to sit on 
 it, but I warn't there for no foolishness o' 
 that sort. Another woman next to me said, 
 'So you've brought your embroidery, Mrs. 
 McLane?' I watched her eyes to see if her 
 mind was as real polite as her voice, and I 
 sensed it warn't. 'No,' I said, 'I ain't, I've 
 125
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 brought just carpet-rags, never havin' found 
 time for no nonsense in my life.' That shut 
 her up some, and made Loosher wiggle, but 
 I just kep' on sewin'. 
 
 "Presently some one on the platform 
 jumped up and took a sup o' water and 
 commenced readin'. It real disappointed 
 me when I saw her fidgetin' with a handful o' 
 papers, for I thought we was all got to- 
 gether for a good chat and to be sociable- 
 like, same as at a bee. You can just tell 
 what I felt when I discovered we warn't 
 even goin' to have nothin' useful told to us. 
 That paper was all a pack o' nonsense about 
 some King over in Europe who'd lived and 
 died long enough ago so's he ought to be 
 forgotten to make room for folks what's 
 doin' their stunts now. Charles the Twelfth 
 o' Sweden, I well remember they called him, 
 but I misdoubt if I remember much else, 
 though I took it all in at the time. Loosher 
 sat real impressed, but I kep' on with my 
 rags, and didn't put on no airs o' feelin' so 
 126
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 much above the ord'nary 'cause I was there. 
 After it was over everybody clapped, and 
 said how improvin' it was, but I just hustled 
 off so's to be home in time for milkin'. I 
 tried to think about it all the way home, but 
 the first thing I saw when I drove in the 
 yard was Jerry'd lost the seat o' his pants. 
 It just showed me how much good Charles 
 the Twelfth o' Sweden was to me!" finished 
 Mrs. McLane triumphantly. 
 
 Ena laughed, stacking the milk-pans near 
 the door. 
 
 "And there's another thing I can't 
 abide," said Mrs. McLane wrathfully, "and 
 that's poetry. I ain't talkin' 'bout the clip- 
 pin's they put in the Lindville paper, cause 
 they're often real good, and I cut 'em out 
 many a time and put 'em in my cook-book 
 or the sewin'-machine drawer, so's I can look 
 at 'em agen if ever I find time. What I 
 mean is where the hull book is clear give up 
 to it. Ed's got one he sets such store by 
 that Loosher keeps it wropped up all the 
 127
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 time in a clean napkin. He's told me about 
 it once or twice, and years back he read a 
 hull lot out to me and Loosher, same as to 
 say we ought to know it anyway. Just the 
 same, there wouldn't ha' been no such fuss 
 about Romy and Juliet if the girl had lived 
 to cook his vittles and mend his socks. You 
 can't tell me!" and Mrs. McLane delved 
 down into the bread-dough with a will. 
 
 Whatever Mrs. McLane's sentiments, 
 however, she could find no fault with the 
 way Ena applied herself to housekeeping 
 problems. There was no system in the 
 home, and Ena had always found things 
 rather difficult in consequence. A truly 
 casual state of things obtained, which might 
 well bewilder anyone accustomed to method 
 and endowed with a sense of order. In vain 
 Ena tried to establish a certain curriculum 
 with the daily-recurring work. 
 
 "You're gettin' as bad as Ross, but it 
 won't do no good," said Mrs. McLane de- 
 cidedly. "I warn't born fussy, and I'll 
 128
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 never get that way. I know it torments you 
 to have all the parlour chairs took up in the 
 way they are, 'specially when you've cleaned 
 'em off once, but I ain't got time to put 
 a thing in its proper place if so be the proper 
 place for it is upstairs, and I happen to be 
 downstairs. Dick and Ross even asked me 
 one day to do without a garret. They were 
 clear crazy, o' course, but they didn't know 
 it, seemin'ly. I'd just as soon try to do 
 without a head as without a garret. It ain't 
 only for the old clothes you can stuff there, 
 but it's mighty handy for a spare bed if you 
 want one in a hurry. I've things in my 
 garret that ain't seen the light this twenty 
 year, and what else I'd do with 'em save to 
 stow 'em up there I don't know." 
 
 "Let me straighten them out some day," 
 suggested Ena, feeling suddenly coura- 
 geous. 
 
 "For the land's sake! What would be 
 the good, I'd like to know? People with 
 common sense put things in the garret which 
 129
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 they may want again some day, but don't 
 rightly know. It ain't no good draggin' 
 'em out afore you do want 'em, and maybe 
 you never will. That reminds me. I'll 
 have that old wash-boiler that leaks taken up 
 there right away. It ain't no more earthly 
 good for washin', but it may come in handy 
 for somethin' else, and it'll do to stuff things 
 in, anyway. You call the twins, Ena, and 
 I'll have 'em take it up afore I forget. I 
 just have to keep my eyes open to see that 
 Dick don't take such things and fling 'em. 
 If you hurry you'll catch Jerry and Dan 
 afore they go up to the ridge." 
 
 And Ena, seeing the case was serious, and 
 Mrs. McLane really fluttered lest she lost 
 the wash-boiler, did as she was asked. At 
 the same time her heart sank a little. She 
 knew that this was the very attitude which 
 thwarted the family interests as a whole, 
 and which Dick and Ross resented in vain. 
 The non-progressivness of it irritated 
 their youth, and their ambitions, and made 
 130
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 their hill of difficulties just so much harder 
 to climb. But since there was no way over 
 the obstacle Mrs. McLane being at all 
 times faithful to her own point of view 
 Ena sat down to think out a way round it, 
 braced, if anything, by the idea of having 
 something to conquer. She and the boys 
 would work together, and not despair. 
 Then, if their spirit was the truly brave and 
 steadfast one, some measure of achievement 
 was bound to come at last. 
 
 131
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 DALE came home one Saturday even- 
 ing early in July with news that set 
 the McLane household all agog. It being 
 the twilight of a very hot day, the entire 
 family was spread out under the trees near 
 the front porch. Dale threw himself down 
 amongst them with a sigh of relief. 
 
 "I guess you're most wilted, same as we 
 all are," said Mrs. McLane compassion- 
 ately. "We're just through chores, and 
 mighty glad of it. This is the kind o' 
 weather when I do wish I could spend a 
 week on an iceberg, just to get the feelin' 
 o' bein' solid again." 
 
 "Let's spend a day in the woods instead," 
 
 suggested Dale, chewing a spear of grass. 
 
 "They say the blueberries over to Pug 
 
 Davidson's old slashing are thick enough to 
 
 132
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 fill rain-barrels. Uncle Ed is goin' to hitch 
 up first thing Monday morning and get 
 out there. Aunt Loosher's been baking 
 cookies to-day ready for it." 
 
 "Land sakes!" Mrs. McLane and the 
 twins sat up simultaneously. "It'd just be- 
 gun to worry me thinkin' perhaps I wouldn't 
 get all the blueberries I wanted to put up 
 this year. I ain't got but two jars left, and 
 if I couldn't ha' got none extry for pre- 
 servin'- 
 
 Dale stemmed the tide of superfluities. 
 
 "Let's go Monday with the others," he 
 suggested, "and then you'll have enough for 
 everything you can think of, and more be- 
 sides." 
 
 There was no need to press the matter, 
 and plans were made forthwith, everybody 
 helping with suggestions. The twins found 
 it difficult to live till Monday, and were up 
 at dawn to find the day had broken with 
 promise of splendid weather. 
 
 "Ain't you got too many pails and 
 133
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 things?" suggested Rob McLane, looking 
 over his shoulder when the family was 
 packed in the waggon and ready to start. 
 "Seems to me we look like a hardware store 
 movin' quarters." 
 
 "There's just one extry pail to fill for 
 Mandy Perkins, and that I'm goin' to take," 
 said Mrs. McLane decidedly. "Prue's 
 dearly fond o' blueberries, or used to be 
 afore her insides got all out o' kilter. It 
 ain't but right that we should give a thought 
 to them that ain't goin'." 
 
 No opposition being offered, the waggon 
 started, taking the ravine road after a time, 
 as the shortest cut to Aunt Loosher's. 
 Here they found the buggy waiting. 
 
 Aunt Loosher peered curiously into the 
 well-filled waggon. "You don't never do 
 things by halves, Ju, and it looks as if you 
 was goin' out prospectin'." 
 
 "So we are," agreed Mrs. McLane com- 
 placently. "We all feel real good. You're 
 lookin' mighty spry yourself, Loosher." 
 134
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Aunt Loosher sniffed. 
 "My knees ain't so bad but what I'll get 
 around and pick a few berries, though I'm 
 trustin' Ed and Dale for the most. This 
 hot weather makes me feel some better than 
 I did in the winter. I was real glad when 
 I got out o' bed this mornin', to find I could 
 walk around pretty comfortable." 
 
 "You're real lucky in havin' things 
 favour you days you want to go out," said 
 Mrs. McLane. "Sometimes I wish 'twas 
 more that way with me, though I ain't com- 
 plainin' any to-day. It takes such feet as 
 I've got to know what a real tormentin' 
 time is. That everlastin' toe o' mine- 
 Here Ross broke in with a suggestion con- 
 cerning dinner, and the conversation was 
 abruptly changed, Mrs. McLane becoming 
 vitally interested during the rest of the 
 drive in a new method of making salt-rising 
 bread. By the time their destination was 
 reached complete harmony prevailed, and 
 everyone was on the tiptoe of expectation. 
 135
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I didn't know anything could be as 
 pleasant as this," Ena said, sitting on a log, 
 with her pail dangling, while she watched 
 Mrs. McLane make camp. "Shall we come 
 out here often, Aunt June?" 
 
 "There ain't nothin' to come for when 
 the blueberries are gone." 
 
 "But it is so beautiful," sighed Ena. "It 
 seems such a pity to be somewhere else when 
 you know there's a lovely place like this." 
 
 "We can't come for those sort o' no- 
 tions," said Mrs. McLane, disgusted with 
 a view of life which excluded so much of the 
 practical. "This ain't nothin' but Pug 
 Davidson's old slashin', which the forest 
 fires burnt over some couple o' years back. 
 I'm real pleased to see there ain't been no 
 exaggeration . about the amount o' blueber- 
 ries. I'll have all I want, and I do dearly 
 like to get my cellar well filled with pre- 
 serves. If you can bring out a nice Mason 
 jar o' berries, you ain't got to call shame on 
 yourself, no matter who stops in to eat. 
 136
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Ain't you never picked blueberries afore, 
 Ena?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Terrible artificial your life must ha' 
 been. It makes me feel glad you come here, 
 even though you'll have to wear gingham 
 after your Californy dresses is all gone. 
 Loosher says you're growin', and I mis- 
 doubt but what you are. You're gettin' 
 good and strong, anyway." 
 
 Ena swung the pail on her arm, and rose, 
 stepping from the shade into the hot sun- 
 shine, with an increasing sense of joy. The 
 others were all among the bushes. Ena 
 looked for Ross, and found him. 
 
 "I've got to keep up my reputation," he 
 laughed. "Ma says I pick blueberries 
 faster than any. Let me show you, Ena. 
 
 "I'm not going to race, lest it makes the 
 day seem to go quicker. I wish we could 
 have a tent and live here." 
 
 "Pug Davidson meant to have most of 
 this timber cut, but he died before he had 
 137
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 time. Father's gone off to look at it; he 
 slipped away when ma was talking to you." 
 
 Ena laughed, rattling the berries into her 
 pail. "Aunt June will find out and scold. 
 Uncle Rob always forgets that in the begin- 
 ing." 
 
 "Last year he came back with just 
 enough berries for his dinner in the crown of 
 his hat, but he seemed so mighty sorry that 
 ma overlooked it. He always acts that way 
 in the timber." 
 
 "I know." 
 
 Silence fell between the two. Ena for- 
 got her resolution to be leisurely, and 
 worked hard. Presently, as they cleared 
 bush after bush, they came upon Aunt 
 Loosher. 
 
 "I got out o' the way o' them twins," she 
 said, not stopping to look up. "My nerves 
 ain't so peaceable as they might be, and the 
 way Ju lets them young ones run around 
 and shriek beats creation. It just shows 
 she don't know the poor health some people 
 138
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 has, or she couldn't abide it. Jerry and 
 Dan are certainly the worst young ones for 
 noise anywhere to be found, and they ain't 
 lackin' any in the way o' mischief. Did you 
 hear how they set traps for skunks down 
 near the creek, and Mandy Perkins' hired 
 man got in one?" 
 
 Ross ducked his head, but Ena went on 
 with her work. 
 
 "Fine and mad Mandy was," pursued 
 Aunt Loosher. "I guess if ever she was 
 tormented in her life for want o' her voice 
 it was then. Seems she came on Jerry and 
 Dan enjoyin' theirselves not just a little to 
 think o' the delight o' such unexpected mis- 
 chief havin' took place, and all caused by 
 their two selves. Ju would be mortal of- 
 fended if I said that to see young ones act 
 that way don't seem very bright for their 
 future, but it's what I think, just the same. 
 They ought to be home learnin' the collect 
 and gospel now 'stead o' pickin' blueberries. 
 That might teach 'em a little." 
 139
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Aunt Loosher's voice sounded so warped 
 that Ena felt obliged to put in an extenuat- 
 ing word for the twins. 
 
 "You can't paint 'em white to me," Aunt 
 Loosher interrupted decidedly. "I've 
 watched 'em bein' raised all along, and I 
 know what they're made of. Ju ain't never 
 had the proper strictness with young ones. 
 Seems like it's always those who don't have 
 children who knows how to raise 'em." 
 
 Ross had gone on ahead, and Ena fol- 
 lowed him as quickly as politeness would per- 
 mit, leaving Aunt Loosher still complain- 
 ing behind the bush. By this time the whole 
 community had got somewhat scattered, and 
 work went on with real intensity till the call 
 came for dinner. 
 
 "I made it an hour late, so's work needn't 
 be interrupted before it had to," announced 
 Mrs. McLane jocosely. "After a good 
 meal no one ain't never so spry again. 
 Rob's fixed the team and made the coffee, 
 and there's about all he has done in the way 
 HO
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 o' bein' useful. Just the same, we've got 
 a sight o' berries, and it's a grand day for 
 gatheriri' 'em. Loosher, suppose we mix 
 vittles? You've got just the cookies the 
 twins like, and Ed always eats heavy o' my 
 melon pickles." 
 
 Aunt Loosher distinctly revived under 
 the influence of good coffee and plentiful 
 provisions, and took her part in the fun that 
 went on round the newspaper tablecloth. 
 Nobody hurried, for a great deal of energy 
 had been expended during the morning, and 
 the sun was now intensely hot on the blue- 
 berry patch. 
 
 "Seems like there's some sense in what 
 Ena said about wantin' to stay here a bit," 
 said Mrs. McLane, who was now expanded 
 with a general sense of well-being. "It cer- 
 tainly is a beautiful place." 
 
 "It looks almost like the home of the 
 fairies," said Ena, watching the sunlight 
 dancing through the trees. 
 
 "I never believed in fairies, nor no truck
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 o' that kind," said Mrs. McLane; "but I 
 do see it's a pleasant place, and I mind how 
 Pug Davidson used to sorter crow 'cause 
 he'd got so much good timber-land. It was 
 wild enough when he settled here, and he 
 he had more'n one bout with the Indians. 
 The farm sorter lies out o' the way, but that 
 just suited Pug, who warn't any too much 
 in tune with his fellow-creatures. Folks 
 said it was 'cause his wife died early, and 
 maybe they was right. She's buried some- 
 where in the woods here, so's he could have 
 her handy for comp'ny. You can see the 
 grave from the old corduroy road on the 
 other side o' the river. Mandy Perkins was 
 drivin' 'long it for a short cut one day, and 
 she seen Pug settin' by the mound talkin' 
 away real uncanny-like. She told the story, 
 and I guess none of us ever felt 'twas 
 properly respectful to use the old corduroy 
 road agen." 
 
 "He and his woman pioneered together," 
 said Uncle Ed, "and that brought 'em real 
 148
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 close. They was half a generation afore us, 
 and knew all about what the wilderness 
 meant." 
 
 "Lucindy warn't a year old when they 
 found a wild-cat right by her cradle," said 
 Mrs. McLane. "Pug took and shot it, but 
 Lucindy's got its teeth-marks in her arm 
 to-day. She don't come to the old place 
 no more, and I guess it's 'cause her daugh- 
 ter's married a store-clerk and likes to live 
 in the city. I'll say that I always liked 
 Lucindy, and she'd have a welcome any time 
 she stepped inside my door. If I knew 
 rightly where she lived, I'd just like to send 
 her some o' these blueberries when they're 
 done up. I'll warrant they'd taste good to 
 her, comin' right from here." 
 
 The twins had gone off again, each with 
 an empty pail, but the rest of the party 
 showed less disposition to be vigorous, and 
 the afternoon w r as chiefly spent in the woods. 
 At four o'clock the first preparations for 
 departure reluctantly began, so that home 
 140
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 might be reached in time for the chores. 
 
 "You keep the tail o' your eye on them 
 twins," advised Mrs. McLane, speaking to 
 her husband. "They've got a real innercent 
 way o' pretendin' not to know nothin' about 
 time for startin', which don't deceive me none, 
 and is downright provokin'. Ross and Ena 
 won't be much better, so you'd be doin' a 
 sensible thing to go round and drive 'em all 
 in." 
 
 "I should be tuckered out if I had so many 
 childern to look after," said Aunt Loosher, 
 when, after various delays, the waggon was 
 ready to start. "I'll say you're not without 
 a bit o' patience, Ju. Your mind must be 
 on 'em all the time." 
 
 "I don't take no extry trouble," said Mrs. 
 McLane, clambering into the waggon. 
 "Young ones on a farm come up sorter easy, 
 and do well besides. Now I guess none of 
 us ain't none too tired to sing a hymn or 
 two when once we get a fair start. Seems 
 as if we ought to do somethin' o' the sort,
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 to show we're thankful for the good day 
 we've had. Surely you'll be to meetin' next 
 Sunday, Loosher?" 
 
 "Maybe," answered Aunt Loosher guard- 
 edly. "I ain't been for quite a while, but 
 everybody knows why. Yet I always like 
 to go to meetin' in the summer, and Lind- 
 ville has as good a minister as any place." 
 
 "We go summer and winter," said Mrs. 
 McLane complacently, "and I take more 
 comfort now that the young ones are all old 
 enough to behave. Ena has a real good 
 influence on the twins, some way or another, 
 and they don't dodge her as they do me. I 
 didn't have such a tormentin' time with get- 
 tin' 'em off to school last winter, neither. 
 Drive a bit quicker, Rob, or we'll never get 
 home in time. And we'll start 'Beulah 
 Land' right now." 
 
 The hymn went lustily, sung in a sort of 
 rhythm to the jolting of the waggon, and 
 after it was finished others followed. Mrs. 
 McLane had a decided taste in hymns, and
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 preferred those of a martial and vigorous 
 order. "I like a good swing to 'em, and a 
 promise at the end," she was wont to say, 
 "and then you kinder feel you're singin' for 
 somethin'." Her voice was strong and 
 sweet, and she led in any community she 
 happened to be in. 
 
 Aunt Loosher, in a more cheerful frame 
 of mind than usual, was presently left at her 
 destination with Uncle Ed and Dale, the lat- 
 ter getting out of the waggon a little re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 "You grow so, and get to look so much 
 like Dick, that presently you and he'll seem 
 like twins too," laughed Mrs. McLane. "It 
 just seems funny to think I'm the mother 
 o' boys that's gettin' so big. Guess I'll have 
 to set up spectacles and a hunch in my back 
 afore long." 
 
 She whispered the story of Dick and Bess 
 
 Hetherbridge to her husband as they drove 
 
 along again, and Robert McLane nodded his 
 
 head from time to time, but did not speak. 
 
 146
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 They thought they had the whole wisdom of 
 the thing, sitting there in the front of the 
 waggon discussing it; but perhaps Dick had 
 some, for when the Hetherbridge farm was 
 passed, and Mrs. McLane turned round 
 "just to see if the blueberries was all right," 
 he lay with his head on a blueberry basket, 
 and his eyes closed, and no one could tell 
 even when the home farm was reached 
 whether he had been asleep or not. 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE hot weather remained, and all 
 through wheat harvest the sun shone 
 with a persistency which at last became some- 
 what trying to the workers in the fields. 
 The weather prophets all over the country- 
 side were nodding their heads sagely, and 
 pronouncing it the hottest summer in a 
 dozen or more years. Be that as it might, 
 the McLanes were not the only ones who 
 breathed a sigh of relief when harvesting 
 was over, and the barn-doors shut on the 
 yield of grain. 
 
 "It's the first time in a couple of weeks 
 that I haven't had more or less of a head- 
 ache," Dick remarked to Ross, as they were 
 bowling along to Creston one Saturday 
 morning in September. "The last day or 
 two with the wheat seemed hard, for the first 
 time I can remember. Gen'rally the fields 
 148
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 is all I want. I like farming well enough, 
 if only money was a little quicker in coming 
 along." 
 
 Ross, browned to the colour of an Indian, 
 had lain stretched on a pile of sacks for half 
 the journey. He lifted his head as the last 
 words were spoken. It was a long time 
 since money matters had been discussed be- 
 tween the two boys, and Ross knew that 
 something lay at the back of it. 
 
 "I'm thinking about your going to 
 school," Dick continued, the slow drawl in 
 his voice that meant he was not talking 
 lightly. "Father ain't said a word to me 
 about it nor I to him. Seems as if the family 
 ain't properly awake to \vhat you want to 
 do. Dale and me never planned particular 
 for education; having to go to school tor- 
 mented us more than anything. Maybe 
 that's a bit against you and maybe 
 
 "It can't be this year anyway." Ross 
 spoke decidedly, sitting up beside Dick, his 
 eyes on the town they were approaching. 
 149
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 The big red school-house would be one of 
 the first buildings passed. 
 
 "Have you made up your mind to it?" 
 Dick spoke with his face averted. 
 
 "Yes, I knew before wheat harvest there 
 was no use in asking. Things haven't been 
 any easier this year. I'm not grumbling 
 any and I'll wait another twelve months." 
 
 "You've got an everlasting sight of hope." 
 Dick whipped up the horses absently, star- 
 ing at the blue hills lying ahead. "I don't 
 see how you keep up courage with every- 
 thing against you. I guess, though, you've 
 felt better this last year." 
 
 Ross nodded affirmation. The two boys 
 were fencing round a delicate subject, and 
 they knew it. Ten months ago, when Dick 
 had decided to offer opposition to Ena's com- 
 ing, the family purse-strings had been at 
 their slackest. But the further incubus 
 Dick had dreaded had proved to be a bless- 
 ing, and he had been waiting all year to say 
 so. 
 
 150
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I don't wonder you've felt kinder hope- 
 ful, and as if something had come along to 
 help out. I'm real glad it's so. Every- 
 body ought to have someone they can go to 
 to get straightened out. I guess it's nothing 
 but the ordinary that makes it so you can't 
 go to school this year." 
 
 "If I start about seventeen that's as 
 young as any farmer-boy ought to hope for," 
 Ross said, all his latent courage in his voice. 
 "School's a big thing and you can't get it 
 for the asking. It's got to be worked for, 
 of course." 
 
 "I'm glad there's one in the family set 
 on getting an education. It's a grand thing, 
 anyway; sorter lifts you above the common, 
 and puts you where you can get even with 
 the world. Just the same, I ain't a mite 
 afraid it'll wean you from home things. 
 The land's right in your blood and the long- 
 ing of it'll stay there. You'll not have to 
 make a living by it for that to be." 
 
 Half an hour later the horses were hitched 
 151
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 in front of a grocery store, and the boys had 
 gone about their several errands. Creston 
 was a comparatively lively place on Satur- 
 days, with the row of farmer's waggons lin- 
 ing either side of Main Street, and neigh- 
 bours in plenty to meet and gossip with 
 while marketing was done. On any other 
 day the wooden sidewalks were peopled 
 chiefly with the little groups of loafers and 
 loungers common to any small country town. 
 
 Ross finished his errands, and went to the 
 post-office for the mail. Here he found 
 Uncle Ed on the doorstep, in an attitude of 
 patient expectation. 
 
 "Ten minutes afore the afternoon dis- 
 tribution," he said. "I don't know why I 
 come here so reg'lar Saturdays, 'cause nine 
 times out o' ten there ain't no mail. I guess 
 it's just the Creston paper any of us come 
 for, savin' a chat. Dale's to town with me 
 to-day, and he was wonderin' if you thought 
 any of goin' to school here this September?" 
 
 "Not for another year." Ross leaned his 
 152
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 elbow on the window, and looked over to the 
 school-house. "I'll not be quite seventeen 
 even then, and it'll be time enough." 
 
 "I thought you sorter hankered to go this 
 year," Uncle Ed suggested, looking keenly 
 at the boy's face. 
 
 "I don't believe I thought I really could, 
 just yet. Anyway, it can't be done." 
 
 "Ain't there no one to help you out any?" 
 
 "I guess I can help myself." Ross 
 shifted his position a little impatiently, look- 
 ing with distaste at a group of loungers in 
 the post-office. 
 
 "If you can't there ain't much chance for 
 you," Uncle Ed observed sententiously, 
 cutting a wad of tobacco with deliberation. 
 "If I had a boy I wouldn't be everlastin' 
 boostin' him, same's implyin' he hadn't no 
 legs of his own. Not but what your case is 
 somethin' more of a tangle, your ma' bein' 
 the way she is; I ain't a word to say agen 
 her spirit o' helpin', but she's provokin' slow 
 in observin' things that lie right to her door. 
 153
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 You don't need to shuffle none 'cause I ain't 
 talkin' no treason, but just what everybody 
 knows. Didn't she take four o' her best 
 chickens out to that Polish family down by 
 the creek last week, and the twins runnin', 
 round at the same time with hardly a bit o' 
 shoe to their feet?" 
 
 Ross laughed, but there was a touch of 
 despair in the sound which did not escape his 
 listener. 
 
 "Don't you get losin' heart, just the 
 same," pursued Uncle Ed, looking up and 
 down the street as if his thoughts had begun 
 to take other channels. "All you've got to 
 do to get a thing is to want it bad enough. 
 Don't you let up none on wishin*. I sorter 
 feel you'll be able to shape things your way 
 a bit later on. Dick'll likely go in the woods 
 with his father this winter, and that'll mean 
 a bit more help to the fam'ly. Now I'll go 
 in and get the paper, or Loosher'll be with- 
 out the news and that'll surely provoke 
 her." 
 
 154
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 No more was said by anybody on the 
 school question, and Ross settled down to 
 another year at the farm. As the autumn 
 advanced, Dick decided to go into the woods 
 with his father for the winter, and Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane agreed to the decision without demur. 
 Well as the little farm was worked, strained 
 circumstances had always been the order of 
 the day, and there seemed no likelihood of 
 any new order of things transpiring. 
 
 "We ought to be thankful for a roof over 
 our heads, and enough to eat," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, as she began to patch and darn the 
 clothes needed for the lumber-camp. "That 
 Polish family down by the creek had nothin' 
 but a dugout to live in the first winter they 
 was over from the old country. Land 
 knows if they ever had enough to eat. 
 Marthy Swiggs says they had, but I ain't 
 none so sure. When Marthy's got a good 
 loaf o' bread and a coffee-pot in front o' her 
 she's apt to think other folks has the same, 
 and it ain't always so. I've seen things as 
 155
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 makes me glad enough for the farm here, 
 even if we ain't got as much as we want 
 sometimes." 
 
 Indian summer was long and lovely that 
 year, and corn-husking went on apace. Ena 
 had arrived too late the previous year to en- 
 joy this last harvesting of the fields, but 
 now she went out with Ross part of each day, 
 amusing everybody at first by her efforts 
 to help, but finally succeeding to some ex- 
 tent. She liked the ride back and forth in 
 the slow, jolting waggon, and enjoyed the 
 soft stillness of the fields. 
 
 "It's better than working in the house," 
 she said to Ross one day, when they were up 
 by the ridge. "Aunt June was rather 
 shocked when I said so yesterday, but I 
 think it's true. Nothing could be much bet- 
 ter than this." 
 
 She folded her hands in her lap a minute, 
 
 and Ross looked at her tanned face, from 
 
 which the old blue sun-bonnet had fallen 
 
 back. Sometimes he thought Ena was 
 
 156
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 changing not in mere growth, which was 
 observable enough but in a subtler way he 
 could not quite comprehend. 
 
 "It's because you're living so differently," 
 he said suddenly, the truth dawning on him 
 in a flash. "Poor people's children are 
 never like the others. They're always in- 
 dependent, and never have a chance to lean 
 on anything or anybody. Don't you know 
 how surprised you were at us the first two 
 or three weeks you came?" 
 
 "What!" Ena came back from her min- 
 ute of dreaming with a start. 
 
 "You thought we could do so much for 
 our ages. When Jerry drove to Creston 
 you were frightened of a runaway" Ross 
 laughed heartily at the remembrance "and 
 I know you didn't rest till he got back, and 
 you saw he was safe. Now you're getting 
 to be just as independent yourself." 
 
 "Aunt June said yesterday she was mak- 
 ing a woman of me," Ena said placidly, be- 
 ginning work again. "I can do a great 
 157
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 many things now that I thought wonderful 
 when I first came." 
 
 "I wish you couldn't." The curious re- 
 gret was at the boy's heart again. "When 
 I get an education there won't be the need. 
 I shall make things different for you." 
 
 Ena's hands were idle again. 
 
 "Didn't you want to go to school this 
 term?" she asked. "When we talked up in 
 the garret last winter you said you might 
 be going to school this last September." 
 
 Ross bent his head. 
 
 "It'll be another year. This winter I'm 
 going to stay on the farm, as Dick'll be 
 away. I shan't be losing much time, for I 
 haven't caught up to you yet." 
 
 Ena looked puzzled. Some things at the 
 farm were obvious enough to her, but over 
 others a veil of silence had always remained 
 dropped. She shrank instinctively from any 
 question which might suggest a desire to 
 probe. Poor and simple as the McLanes 
 were, they had their own pride and notions 
 158
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 of reservation, on which no stranger ever 
 dared to trample. 
 
 "I'd be losing time if it wasn't for you," 
 Ross went on, troubled by the unusual 
 thoughtfulness of Ena's face. "You've 
 been ahead of me all the time, and if you 
 keep up study this winter, as you say you're 
 going to, I guess you'll remain so." 
 
 "I will of course I will; talking about it 
 makes me half wish the snow would come 
 right now and shut us all in again. We'll 
 see how much we can do. I want you to 
 get on I do want you to succeed." 
 
 Ross's hand lay near hers, and she covered 
 it with her soft palm, smiling at him under 
 the brim of his ragged straw hat. In the 
 rare moment of demonstration she was 
 startled to see a sudden quiver of his lips. 
 It was controlled instantly, but as Ena with- 
 drew her hand she knew that tears had 
 fallen under the lowered hat-brim, and her 
 heart beat quickly at the thought of what she 
 had stirred. 
 
 159
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "I know you will succeed, too," she said 
 presently, steadying her voice to a dead- 
 level as she went on working. "Uncle Ed 
 says you always make most of what you 
 have to fight for, and I guess he's right. 
 He says you've got to keep walking on to 
 something farther all the time, or else you'd 
 die in your tracks. Don't you remember 
 when he talked to us that day we went berry- 
 picking?" 
 
 "Yes." Ross's face was calm as ever now. 
 
 "He said he had had a hard row to hoe, 
 but he was glad of it," Ena went on. 
 "When he talks it makes me feel it's a good 
 thing to have luck against you, and I want 
 to be just one of the poorest people who ever 
 fought up to fortune." 
 
 "I don't mind feeling ragged when I'm 
 with Uncle Ed." Ross acknowledged smil- 
 ingly. "He's always had the same helpful 
 way, I guess, but I've never noticed it so 
 much till lately. He talks a lot to you, 
 Ena." 
 
 160
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Because we're natural sort of friends." 
 Ena pulled loose the strings of her sun-bon- 
 net, and threw it on the stubble, shaking her 
 damp curls into order. By Ross's special 
 wish she had up to now eschewed the tight 
 neck-braids and huge bows of ribbon fash- 
 ionable in the neighbourhood for girls of her 
 age. Mrs. McLane had more than once 
 sniffed at the two small bows which held 
 back the long curls, but Ena had held her 
 own in the matter, and Ross had found peace 
 accordingly. 
 
 "I want you to keep looking like you did 
 when you first came," he had said to her 
 more than once and Ena was beginning to 
 know what he meant. 
 
 "We're natural sort of friends," the girl 
 repeated. "I told Uncle Hugo about him 
 the last time I wrote to California. That 
 was nearly three months ago and I haven't 
 had an answer yet." Ena's face clouded a 
 little. 
 
 "You don't care so much, do you?" Ross 
 161
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 came a little nearer, the anxiety he was too 
 awkward to adequately express apparent on 
 his face. "You don't pine for the folks out 
 there, do you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You'll hear soon enough," said Ross, 
 satisfied. He went to work with redoubled 
 energy, content that Ena sat idly in the 
 sunshine. It seemed as if all sorts of 
 shadows had vanished in the one short morn- 
 ing. Both had a smile on their faces when 
 at last the dinner-bell clanged noisily across 
 the fields. 
 
 "I'll never husk corn again without think- 
 ing about to-day." Ross laughed as he 
 helped Ena into the waggon. "I've got 
 where I sort of want things to come along 
 and shake their fists at me. I didn't know a 
 real happy feeling was ever as good as this." 
 
 162
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 fTlHE winter that followed was severe, 
 A and the long months of being prac- 
 tically shut in by the snow grew tedious at 
 last. Even Ross and Ena, who made good 
 use of the leisure the frozen fields enforced, 
 were scarcely less demonstrative in their 
 pleasure than the twins when the spring 
 thaws finally set in. Dick and his father 
 had been sadly missed, and the days were 
 counted till their probable return. 
 
 Ross had been the head of the family all 
 winter, and the experience had done him 
 good. Mrs. McLane had complained on 
 more than one occasion of his tendency to 
 over-discipline the twins, but with this ex- 
 ception things had run smoothly enough. 
 
 "I don't never fear for real quarrels in 
 the fam'ly," Mrs. McLane had confided to 
 Ena on one occasion. "The childern are 
 163
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 just as clannish one with another as they 
 can be, and one McLane will always stick 
 up for another, no matter what. It sorter 
 grows with 'em, too, as they grow older. 
 There's been one or two bits o' fuss 'twixt 
 Ross and the twins this winter, but it's 'cause 
 he wants to lick 'em into shape too quick. 
 There's a few years they've got to have o' 
 bein' heathens, and they know it, and to 
 bring 'em up too sharp is sorter cheatin' 
 'em out o' their birthright, and they know 
 that too. Once they come to find out what's 
 so and what ain't they never get to kickin' 
 their heels aloft again, and it's a poor mother 
 that makes a child grow up afore it has to. 
 I ain't never been pernickety with young 
 ones, nor set on makin' 'em over-behave 
 theirselves. Give a child its childhood, and 
 if it wants to take it standin' on its head, 
 let it for sure. When they feel a hankerin' 
 for older ways they'll take to 'em, but I 
 ain't never one to force it. The cradle stops 
 rockin' quick enough." 
 164*
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Ross is ambitious for them," said Ena, 
 adjusting a patch to the knee of a small 
 stocking. 
 
 "I know he is," said Mrs. McLane ap- 
 provingly, "and later on he'll find it's all 
 right, and that he needn't ha' worried. 
 They'll sorter justify theirselves. Jerry's 
 goin' to be as smart as we want, and push 
 his way real good, or else he'd never ha' 
 been born with a red head. I guess Ross 
 knows it all right, but he's over-anxious. 
 He was always inclined to be, and it ain't 
 leavin' him any. Sometimes this winter it's 
 sorter worried me to see him work so hard 
 over his books, but then I've remembered 
 the tales o' many another American boy 
 that's plugged his way up to better things 
 just that way." 
 
 "It would worry him if he couldn't study," 
 Ena said. It was the first time she had ever 
 talked to Mrs. McLane on the subject. 
 
 "I guess it would, though he's worked with 
 twice the heart since you come, Ena. He 
 165
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 used to have spells just before that which 
 no one didn't quite understand. Seems a 
 real blessin' them Californy folks acted as 
 they did. Your Uncle Rob always wanted 
 a girl round, but the Lord never sent nothin' 
 but boys, and the last time two of 'em at 
 once, same as to say that's what we got for 
 hankerin'. One thing I'll say is, they're all 
 good boys. A bit skittish when they're real 
 young, and a sorter natural knack o' tor- 
 mentin' the neighbours, but that don't count 
 
 none " and Mrs. McLane chuckled for 
 
 several minutes over some reminiscence she 
 did not disclose. 
 
 Dick and his father came home from the 
 woods tired, but in good health and spirits. 
 Robert McLane always seemed to be en- 
 veloped in a curious peace the moment work 
 on the farm began, as if he found it an- 
 swered all his yearnings. 
 
 "I heard a partridge drumming on the 
 ridge this mornin'," he said to Ena one day. 
 "It sorter thrilled me, too. I don't never 
 166
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 have to make effort to see and hear the 
 sights and sounds o' Xature. Seems I'm 
 right with it all the time. When the wind 
 gets soft in the spring it seems as if every 
 bit o' me aches to be out from dawn to 
 dark." 
 
 Six weeks after the words were spoken 
 Robert McLane was stricken with typhoid 
 fever, and lay for weeks a worn and wasted 
 wreck of his former self. The calamity 
 overpowered the family a little at first. 
 Good health had been so universal amongst 
 them that the idea of sickness and serious 
 sickness was something not be realised 
 at once. The despair of it came in due 
 course, however, and there were long days 
 and nights of watching and anxiety, whicli 
 wore even buoyant Mrs. McLane to a state 
 of tremulousness. In the end the tide 
 turned safely, and the long process of con- 
 valescence began. 
 
 Ena aided here. The intimate touch with 
 sorrow and suffering called forth prema- 
 167
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 turely the slumbering instincts of woman- 
 hood, and when Mrs. McLane collapsed 
 from sheer exhaustion, Ena was ready to 
 take her place. In the hot little room her 
 presence came as a boon to the sufferer. 
 
 "You've the natural knack," he said to her 
 more than once. "None too many words, 
 and yet anyone can see you understand. 
 This is the first summer I've ever been laid 
 aside, and it seems to me the sun never shone 
 so hot afore. My mind goes out to the 
 fields every minute. Everything out-doors 
 keeps callin' me, and yet I can't raise arm 
 nor limb to get there. I misdoubt some- 
 times if I'll be out for wheat harvest." 
 
 "If you don't lose heart you will. At 
 any rate, you'll be able to sit out on the 
 porch, and watch them in the fields," Ena 
 soothed. 
 
 "Dick and Ross ha' had it hard this 
 
 summer," Robert McLane mused, "but 
 
 there's grit in both of 'em. Farmer boys 
 
 don't know nothin' about sittin' in the 
 
 168
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 middle o' the lap o' luxury, but they learn 
 sooner than the others how to stand with 
 the shoulders back, and take things square 
 in the jaw. There's a deal in the learnin' 
 how to take life when you're real young. I 
 ain't never preached to the childern, but I've 
 sorter looked at 'em right from the cradle 
 up same as to say I don't want 'em to think 
 o' the world just as a play-place leastways, 
 not till chores is done." 
 
 Ena put her cool cheek on his hand, stop- 
 ping its restless wandering over the faded 
 quilt. "Anyway, I'm glad to be lyin' here, 
 comin' back slow to the home-like things 
 agen the creakin' o' the old pump, and the 
 roosters crowin', and the wavin' o' the 
 wheat. If you ain't never been sick you 
 don't know the feelin' of it, girl. Yest'day 
 ma lifted me a bit so's I could see the barn, 
 and I just tracked the pathway with my eye, 
 wonderin' why I hadn't never thought how 
 good it was to walk along it afore. But I'm 
 most of all glad 'cause o' the childern. 
 169
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Seems as if I want to see 'em pushed ahead 
 a bit more afore the time comes for me to 
 lie quiet for good. I want to sorter be at 
 the back of 'em even if they don't see me 
 there. It ain't that I'm fearsome for 'em 
 but it's just the feelin' the Lord puts in 
 your heart when you peep atween the cradle- 
 quilts for the first time, and you don't never 
 lose it. A sorter hoverin 3 feelin' I ain't 
 never been able to find no word for it 'cept 
 that." 
 
 "I know." Ena soothed as a woman 
 might, and presently he fell asleep. When 
 the breathing had become regular she slipped 
 from the room and out on to the front porch. 
 The boys were coming home from the fields, 
 but Ena had no energy left to run to meet 
 them. It was good enough to rest back in 
 the old hickory-chair, and wait till Dan 
 came to whisper that dinner was ready. 
 
 The two elder boys found little time for 
 the sick-room, but they were constant enough 
 in their inquiries after their father. Ena 
 170
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 noticed with some surprise, however, that 
 even after convalescence was well advanced, 
 the worried looks did not leave their faces, 
 and she spoke of it one day to Mrs. McLane. 
 
 "They need not fear now, and yet they 
 seem to," Ena finished, when she had ex- 
 plained the reason of her remarks. "Have 
 you guessed why it is, Aunt June?" 
 
 Mrs. McLane was baking a batch of pies, 
 and she stopped to look into the oven. 
 
 "Don't you worry none, Ena, but just 
 keep a bright face for the sick-room. That's 
 all we want you to do. Maybe the boys is 
 a bit flustrated with havin' everythin' on 
 their hands this summer, but troubles pass 
 in time, so don't you be hinderin' 'em any 
 by lookin' at 'em. The thing that's got to 
 be seen to most is gettin' Rob McLane on 
 his feet agen, and you seem to be pretty 
 handy at doin' it." 
 
 Ena knew then that the rest of the family 
 were in possession of some secret anxiety 
 which was being kept from the sick-room, 
 171
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and she held her peace. At the same time 
 misgivings would come, and it was a little 
 lonely not to be able to share them with 
 anybody. 
 
 One afternoon the following week Uncle 
 Ed drove over to see the invalid, and tied 
 his horse to the hitching-post with a good 
 deal of deliberation. Ena was in the sick- 
 room, and she did not vacate as he entered. 
 
 "Thought I'd get along afore you was up 
 and about again," he said to Robert Mc- 
 Lane cheerfully, seating himself on the end 
 of the bed. "I saw Ju in the kitchen, and 
 she said you was to be up for awhile for 
 the first time to-morrow. How does it feel 
 to think o' that?" 
 
 "Good." Robert McLane smiled wearily. 
 "I'm frettin' to be round agen. It seems as 
 if they've kept me here longer than needs 
 be, and a few days back Ju took it in her 
 head to move the bed so's I don't get the 
 view I did. Just give me your shoulder, 
 Ed, and wheel the bed round a bit so's I 
 
 ra
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 can see the land. No one don't know how 
 tired I am o' wall-paper." 
 
 Uncle Ed hesitated a moment, then com- 
 plied. "Don't you get to worryin' none," he 
 suggested. 
 
 Robert McLane did not hear. He was 
 straining his eyes towards the nearest wheat- 
 field. 
 
 "It's yeller awful yeller for wheat that's 
 little more'n past the milk," he said, puzzled. 
 "Is that them furrowin' in yonder field? 
 What in the land He paused, strain- 
 ing nearer the window, and when he spoke 
 again his voice had changed. 
 
 "It ain't yeller like that for nothin'. It's 
 the chinch-bug, Ed! The chinch-bug is on 
 the wheat, and you must ha' seen it good 
 enough as you come by ! Why ain't no one 
 told me?" 
 
 "There warn't no help for it, and so what 
 
 was the use o' tellin' you afore you had to 
 
 know? The boys has made a plucky fight, 
 
 but you know what the chinch-bug is, 
 
 173
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 'specially when it comes now. It ain't no 
 good worry-in', neither. You ain't the only 
 one with a ruined crop." 
 
 "What with sickness, and a spoiled har- 
 vest, the Lord seems layin' His hand heavy 
 on this little house," Robert McLane said. 
 He was not over the shock of his discovery 
 yet, and he was lying back in his old place. 
 
 "Not so partic'lar heavy. You're through 
 with your sickness, and wheat-sowin'll come 
 round again. Don't take on none, or the 
 boys'll fairly give up," advised Uncle Ed, 
 who knew well how to thrust forward potent 
 suggestions. "It's real disheartenin' to 'em 
 that this pest should ha' happened when they 
 was workin' things all on their own. 
 They're just sick over it." 
 
 "It ain't no fault of theirs. My! it seems 
 as if the scent o' one trouble brings another." 
 
 "You're through with your sickness, so 
 
 just give yourself up to thanksgivin' for 
 
 that. We've had the chinch-bug afore, and 
 
 we'll likely have it again. It ain't the hard- 
 
 174
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 est thing pioneer folks has had to fight, 
 Rob." 
 
 "That's so." Robert McLane was al- 
 ready bracing himself. "Just sorter hint 
 to the boys that it warn't no great shock, 
 and I'm through repinin'. Do it sorter 
 careful, Ed, so's to make 'em sure what 
 you're sayin' is so." 
 
 Uncle Ed had risen. He nodded acquies- 
 cence, and Ena, who had sat half-forgotten, 
 followed him out of the room, and on to the 
 front porch. She clung to his arm, detain- 
 ing him. 
 
 "What does it mean, Uncle Ed?" 
 
 "There'll be no wheat-crop," said Uncle 
 Ed tersely. "Ju wanted me to come over 
 and sorter break it to him to-day, knowin' 
 he would realise right off what kind o' shape 
 it would land 'em all in. But he took it 
 pretty good. I knowed he would, too. Ju 
 thought he'd take on about it. She's right 
 off the mark sometimes, in the way she sizes 
 up her man." 
 
 175
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Uncle Ed was flicking a willow-switch 
 absently, his eye on the wheat-fields. 
 
 "My crop's gone, too," he said, "but then 
 it don't matter so much for me, 'cause I've 
 got a fair bit o' money laid by. Howso, 
 these things raise the fightin' blood in a man, 
 and that ain't a bad thing to happen. If 
 everythin' went slick our muscle'd get soft, 
 and our blood run sorter sickenin' easy. 
 Afore that happens to me I want to be laid 
 aside, and I guess Rob McLane's built some 
 the same way." 
 
 "I've been here nearly two years, and this 
 is the first big trouble that has come," said 
 Ena. She spoke quietly, retaining her hold 
 on Uncle Ed's arm. "I wonder what my 
 Uncle Hugo would say to it?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Or any of them. There's someone else 
 besides Uncle Hugo." 
 
 "There's your Aunt Esther, your father's 
 sister. Ain't you never seen her?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 176
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "She never quarrelled with your father 
 same's she did with your Uncle Hugo, but 
 she lived way off in Europe for years and 
 years, and I guess that's why you ain't never 
 seen her. Seems to me, though, that I 
 heard she was back in Californy awhile 
 since. She's an old maid, and a regular 
 crank by all accounts. Had lots o' money 
 left to her when she was young, and I guess 
 she suspected all the young fellers that come 
 around her wanted to fill their pockets 'stead 
 o' their hearts. Maybe she was right, for 
 I've heard she warn't at all a lovable woman, 
 and had no trick o' forgivin' once she's fallen 
 out with a person.' 
 
 "Why did she quarrel with Uncle Hugo?" 
 
 "Land knows. She had the old home- 
 stead left to her, so maybe 'twas money mat- 
 ters. Likely enough, I should say." Uncle 
 Ed smiled as he walked off. 
 
 Ena went into the house with a slower 
 step, peeping into the sick-room before she 
 went out to the kitchen. Robert McLane 
 177
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 was lying quiet, and he smiled at her as she 
 smoothed the quilt. 
 
 "You're gettin' real womanish ways with 
 you, girl. Don't you fuss none over me. 
 I'm lyin' nice and comfortable, and if ma 
 should ask any about me tell her I'm just 
 tryin' to get a wink o' sleep afore dinner- 
 time comes along. Don't you let on, least- 
 ways for an hour or so, that I'm tryin' to 
 do anythin' else." 
 
 178
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ENA sat up in the garret, writing-pad 
 and pencil on her knee. Through the 
 open window came the soft sound of sum- 
 mer rain, with now and then the rattle of 
 buggy-wheels returning from Saturday 
 market. 
 
 Throughout the long afternoon she had 
 sat motionless, intent only on the matter in 
 hand, which at last was finished. She folded 
 her letter across and across with a sigh of 
 relief, but finally straightened it out again 
 to give a last and critical reading, her brow 
 furrowed deeply with indecision. It began 
 somewhat abruptly: 
 
 "AUNT ESTHER, 
 
 "I cannot put 'dear' in front of your 
 
 name because I have never seen you, and I 
 
 think it is owing to some trouble in the 
 
 family which happened a long time ago. 
 
 179
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Uncle Ed Van Orme says you are peculiar, 
 and perhaps you may not like to receive this 
 letter, but this is what I want to tell you. 
 "I came to this McLane house nearly two 
 years ago, and I have been very happy until 
 now. This summer Uncle Rob has been ill 
 with typhoid, and the wheat-crop has failed, 
 so they are going to be very poor for quite 
 awhile. Ross will not be able to go to school 
 again this September, and I think it will 
 break his heart. If I leave here it will be 
 less expense to them, and there won't be any- 
 thing particular this coming winter that I 
 can do. I wish you would help me about 
 it all. I have thought a great deal for more 
 than a week, but I cannot tell anyone here. 
 I hope you will not be angry with this let- 
 ter, for I am writing from a sense of Justice. 
 I do not think Uncle Hugo just understands 
 how things are, and I have not had a letter 
 from him for nearly four months. I want 
 you to write quickly, please. 
 "From your niece, 
 
 "ENA MARGARET CHASE." 
 
 The word "justice" had originally been 
 180
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 written with a small "j," but Ena had 
 crossed this out, and finally substituted the 
 capital letter. The phrase was one of Aunt 
 Loosher's favourites, and Ena felt it looked 
 well on paper, and would probably impress 
 Aunt Esther. 
 
 A day or two before, when bewildered as 
 to the composition of the letter, Ena had 
 appealed indirectly to Mrs. McLane. 
 
 "What would you do, Aunt June, if you 
 wanted to write to someone about a matter, 
 and you were not quite sure how they would 
 like it?" 
 
 "I should put down real plain what was 
 in my head," Mrs. McLane had answered 
 decisively; "no frills, and no fussin'. I don't 
 never take time to walk round a thing I 
 can get to straight." 
 
 Ena felt there was worth in the sugges- 
 tion, and it had ruled the spirit of her let- 
 ter accordingly. Now the difficulty was 
 over, and she sighed again with satisfaction 
 as she tucked the envelope under her pil- 
 181
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 low to await the first chance of mailing. 
 
 Robert McLane was about again now; a 
 very shadowy sort of man as yet, but with 
 gradually increasing strength. It was char- 
 acteristic of the family that silence was 
 maintained on the subject of the wheat; even 
 Mrs. McLane seemed to have found a 
 private reason for not descanting on it. 
 Dick and Ross went about with the shadow 
 lifted from their faces, but Ena's manner 
 remained a little nervous. 
 
 Nothing was said between her and Ross on 
 the subject of school, the impossibility of it 
 being too well understood to need mention. 
 Ena read the date of opening for the au- 
 tumn term with a sigh, but Ross main- 
 tained a composure so complete that it was 
 almost puzzling. 
 
 The letter had been mailed two days after 
 writing, and Ena counted the time before 
 an answer could arrive. She had been 
 obliged to send it under cover to her Uncle 
 Hugo for forwarding. If Aunt Esther was 
 183
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 really back in her old California home, there 
 need be very little delay about an answer be- 
 ing received. 
 
 However, the days crept on, and no sign 
 came. Ena began to lose heart, and wonder 
 what step to take next. Mrs. McLane 
 noticed a change in her manner, and com- 
 mented on it without reserve. 
 
 "You've lost heart a bit because a stroke 
 of bad luck has caught us clear in the back, 
 but it ain't nothin' but foolishness to worry. 
 You surely ought to ha' shook down to our 
 ways enough to know that if we're beat 
 down one time we'll bob up another." 
 
 Ena nodded, but went on washing the 
 dishes in silence. 
 
 "If you're poor all the time you don't 
 never know what you miss," continued Mrs. 
 McLane. "The people I'm real sorry for 
 is them that has had, and ain't got it any 
 more. The only way for them to do is to 
 sorter chuckle 'cause they've had a nip o' 
 what the others ain't. When you're put to 
 183
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 bad enough you've got to look out for some- 
 thin' that's soothin' to the feelin's." 
 
 It was two days after this in the middle 
 of the afternoon that an astounding thing 
 happened at the farm. Mrs. McLane and 
 Ena were taking in the morning's wash, 
 which was always hung in front of the house 
 to be out of the way, when Marthy Swiggs' 
 buggy came along, Marthy herself driving. 
 The team moved at a walking pace, and on 
 the front seat by Marthy's side sat a 
 resplendent sort of person who was deliber- 
 ately surveying the house as she approached. 
 Mrs. McLane saw the strange sight first, 
 and dropped an armful of linen on the 
 grass. 
 
 "For the land's sake! here's someone 
 dressed so fine that it makes Marthy look 
 sicker'n a hen with the pip. They're drivin' 
 up here for sure." 
 
 Ena turned to look. Something in the 
 face of the stranger seemed familiar to her, 
 and with a cry she ran forward, stopping 
 184
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 the buggy just as it was turning into the 
 yard. 
 
 ''Are you Aunt Esther?" 
 
 "I guess it is," said Marthy excitedly, be- 
 fore anyone else had time to speak. "I 
 found her in Creston, wonderin' how she'd 
 ever get here. This is the McLane place, 
 ma'am, and here's Ena. Glad to ha' 
 helped you some." 
 
 Aunt Esther Chase was deposited on the 
 grass somewhat abruptly, and stood leaning 
 on her thick walking-stick, looking at Ena. 
 For the first time in many months the girl 
 became conscious of the faded calico dress 
 she wore, and she made a nervous movement 
 backwards towards Mrs. McLane the lat- 
 ter having taken a position on the porch 
 steps in order to get her regular breathing 
 powers restored. 
 
 "Stop a minute!" The walking-stick 
 
 was waved imperiously as Ena stepped 
 
 'back. "I'm your Aunt Esther Chase, as 
 
 you seem to have guessed, and I've come to 
 
 185
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 find out things for myself. Is this the place 
 you've been living in for the last two years?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Who is that person sitting on the steps?" 
 
 "Aunt June." Ena moved to include 
 Mrs. McLane in the conversation, and the 
 latter came forward hospitably, her equa- 
 nimity somewhat restored. 
 
 "If you're part o' Ena's folks, I'm real 
 glad to see you," she said, moving the 
 clothes-pins from one hand to the other in 
 order to give extra greeting. "Come and 
 sit down in the porch rocker a minute while 
 I finish takin' in the wash. Marthy's 
 dropped your satchel on the grass there, and 
 I'll have the twins take it up to Ena's bed- 
 room. I reckon you've got sorter lonesome 
 to see her, and come unexpected. It ain't a 
 bad way at all saves quite a lot o' f ussin' 
 and fixin' up." 
 
 Aunt Esther walked over to the porch, a 
 slight limp becoming apparent the moment 
 she moved. 
 
 186
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Ha' you got trouble with your limbs, 
 too?" exclaimed Mrs. McLane, feeling that 
 sympathies in common might be established 
 at once. "It's wonderful how stiffness does 
 take the j'ints w r hen you get on a bit in 
 years." 
 
 "I suffered a slight strain years ago, while 
 mountain-climbing," explained Aunt Esther 
 in frozen accents, noting that Ena had dis- 
 appeared with the suit-case. 
 
 "And you ain't got over it, seemin'ly. 
 People meet all sorts o' things when they 
 travel. I presume you're home for good 
 now?" 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 "And took to findin' your relations. 
 Just the same, I ain't heard Ena speak none 
 about you." 
 
 "Ena has never seen me. I was abroad 
 at the time she was orphaned, and I under- 
 stood my brother Hugo had taken charge 
 of her." 
 
 Mrs. McLane sniffed audibly. 
 187
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Soon got tired o' his job, I reckon. 
 The girl came here somethin' approachin' 
 two year ago, sayin' her uncle thought it'd 
 be sorter healthier for her to be brought up 
 on a farm. I scented from his letter how 
 things was. The child was welcome enough 
 here, if nobody else wanted her." 
 
 Aunt Esther relaxed. Mrs. McLane had 
 piled up her basket and taken the opposite 
 rocker. 
 
 "I wish I had been home at the time, but 
 I was abroad, and in a sanatorium." 
 
 "She's a real good girl, and ain't never 
 been nothin' less to us than our own," con- 
 tinued Mrs. McLane. "I guess there'd be 
 a sight o' opposition to get through if there 
 was any notion o' takin' her away now. 
 Her ways ain't our ways, but she's got a 
 natural politeness about her that makes it 
 seem as if they was. I wouldn't let her 
 go to no one who didn't treat her good, and 
 make her feel she was just as welcome as 
 188
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 could be to whatever they'd got and no de- 
 pendent at that." 
 
 All unconsciously Mrs. McLane had 
 touched the right chord. Her simple man- 
 ner of getting down to the raw in life won 
 its way unerringly now. With the barrier 
 of caste broken down, the two stood revealed 
 for what they were women of widely dif- 
 ferent breeding, but similar heart. Aunt 
 Esther put out her hand in a way that was 
 very different from the limp extension of 
 fingers a few minutes before. 
 
 "I'll remember that," she said. "Now, if 
 it is convenient for me to stay two or three 
 days " 
 
 "Sure!" Mrs. McLane rose alertly. 
 "I'm forgettin' all about you, in talkin' 
 about Ena. I guess she's took up your 
 satchel, so, if you can climb the stairs here 
 you'll find her room, and I'll go right to 
 makin' a mess o' fried-cakes for supper." 
 
 So Aunt Esther went slowly up the stairs, 
 189
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 marvelling greatly at all she saw on the way. 
 Ena was smoothing out the patchwork quilt 
 in her bedroom with fingers that trembled 
 ever so little. Aunt Esther watched her for 
 a few moments in silence, rapping her stick 
 at intervals on the floor. Then an unwonted 
 softness came over her face. She held out 
 her hand. 
 
 "I'm glad you wrote," she said. "Don't 
 cry. I understand it all." 
 
 190
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE presence of Aunt Esther Chase at 
 the farm provided a sense of novelty 
 not easily to be described. At first a gen- 
 eral nervousness prevailed with all but Mrs. 
 McLane, but this wore off. Aunt Esther 
 had evidently come prepared to take things 
 as she found them; and if they were not 
 what she had anticipated she did not say 
 so. 
 
 Work went on just as usual during the 
 next two days. There was far too much to 
 do to be able to loiter, even for an unusual 
 guest. Ena was the only one who had liberty 
 accorded her, and, rocking in the sunshine on 
 the front porch, she gave her aunt the history 
 of the past two years. 
 
 Aunt Esther sat still and said little, but 
 occasionally she tapped the floor with her 
 stick. Ena learned before long that this 
 191
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 was a sign to be regarded, and fell to 
 studying it accordingly. Thus she was 
 not disappointed at the apparent tac- 
 iturnity with which her narrative was re- 
 ceived. 
 
 "I never realised there was definite 
 trouble until this summer," Ena finished. 
 "The day Uncle Ed came over I knew there 
 would be lots to think about. But things 
 are soon arranged in this house. Ross is 
 to go into the woods next winter with his 
 father and Dick, so that extra money can 
 be made. Mrs. McLane is going to manage 
 the farm with the twins." 
 
 "Is it Ross who meant to go to school 
 this term?" 
 
 "Yes." Ena leaned her chin on her hand 
 and stopped rocking. "He wants to be edu- 
 cated, and this is the second year things 
 have happened to prevent." 
 
 "That won't hurt him, if he is the right 
 sort of boy," said Aunt Esther grimly. "It 
 seems to me things have been planned very 
 192
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 sensibly, considering the family circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Ena said nothing. An oppression which 
 had been lightened for the last two days re- 
 turned upon her. She realised that she had 
 vaguely suspected Aunt Esther of coming 
 as a sort of family deliverer. It seemed 
 that this was not to be. 
 
 "I should like to meet Ed Van Orme," 
 said Aunt Esther suddenly. "Where doesi 
 he live?" 
 
 Ena roused herself. "He and Aunt 
 Loosher are coming over this afternoon to 
 see you. They heard of your being here 
 yesterday. Marthy Swiggs told them. 
 She has been dreadfully excited ever since 
 you arrived" ; and Ena smiled. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. McLane appeared 
 from the sitting-room, a faded gingham 
 wrapper hanging over her arms. She 
 looked at Aunt Esther's immaculate grey 
 gown. 
 
 "It torments me terrible to see you wearin' 
 193
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 that good dress in the house," she said, "and 
 so I hunted up this gingham, so's you could 
 put it on and save the others. You and me 
 ain't so awful unlike in figure but what you 
 can wear it fairly comfortable. If it's a bit 
 wide in the waist, just lap it over, and pin 
 it at the back." 
 
 Aunt Esther controlled her surprise 
 gracefully. 
 
 "Thank you, but I feel very comfortable 
 as I am, and I won't trouble you." 
 
 "It troubles me a deal more to see a good 
 dress sorter goin' to waste," Mrs. McLane 
 said. "If only you'd ha' thought to bring 
 a couple o' common dresses with you!" 
 
 Aunt Esther said nothing, and looked a 
 little nonplussed. 
 
 "You don't mean to say you ain't got no 
 common dresses?" interrogated Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, scenting the situation with her usual 
 acumen. "Leastways, nothin' commoner 
 than what you've got on?" 
 
 "I find them very comfortable and serv- 
 194.
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 iceable." Aunt Esther smoothed her gown, 
 settling the cuffs apologetically. "They 
 wash, you know," she added, hoping to im- 
 press Mrs. McLane favourably. 
 
 "I can see it, but I'd never feel I ought 
 to have as trim a dress as that on my back, 
 'cept on the Fourth, or the Sabbath, or 
 maybe a funeral. I thought when I seen 
 you round yest'day afternoon in that red 
 dress you was wearin' that it'd make as 
 lovely a ball o' carpet-rags as ever was 
 sewed. I guess you're sorter hankerin' to 
 get it worn out, anyway," suggested Mrs. 
 McLane enviously. 
 
 "Aunt June likes your rose linen," ex- 
 plained Ena, on the edge of laughter. 
 "We sew all the dresses here into carpet-rags 
 when they are finished with." 
 
 "You're not goin' to tell me you don't!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. McLane, overpowered by 
 such a revelation, and looking at Aunt 
 Esther in a way which made the latter feel 
 mentally unbalanced. "It'd be the most 
 195
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 sinful waste I ever heard tell of, considerin' 
 what you wear." 
 
 "You possess more ideas than I, evidently, 
 and probably your custom is a good one." 
 Aunt Esther spoke politely, but rapped her 
 stick with a significance not to be dis- 
 regarded. "Ena, I wish you would bring 
 me my work-bag." 
 
 What Aunt Esther's thoughts were as she 
 sat sewing for the remainder of the morning 
 could not be told. Her eyes were bent on 
 her work, and her firmly-set lips quivered 
 no secrets. Ena, flying from one task to 
 another in the house, occasionally glanced 
 towards the open door and sighed. She 
 liked Aunt Esther Chase, but found her as 
 yet a little inscrutable. 
 
 "She's ever so slightly like my father," 
 Ena said to Mrs. McLane, when, later on, a 
 mutual peeling of potatoes invited confi- 
 dence. "That's why I seemed to know her 
 as she sat by Marthy's side." 
 
 "She's an awful odd woman, with her 
 196
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 mouth shuttin' down on everythin' her eyes 
 takes in," said Mrs. McLane. "That stick- 
 rappin' business torments me, too; but I 
 ain't complainin' serious, 'cause her heart is 
 good. She wants to do the right thing." 
 
 Ena was on the alert that afternoon, and 
 when Uncle Ed and Aunt Loosher drove 
 up, she took the former at once to where 
 Aunt Esther Chase sat sewing under the 
 trees. Then she left the two together, 
 divining that an acquaintanceship would be 
 more easily formed if no third person were 
 present. 
 
 Meanwhile Aunt Loosher had made her 
 way with dignity to the kitchen, there to en- 
 counter Mrs. McLane. The latter stopped 
 a moment in her bread-kneading to note that 
 her sister wore the cherished gown of black 
 Henrietta which had been made for old man 
 Sorensen's funeral. 
 
 "It ain't no good, Loosher." A slight 
 but provoking smile broadened on Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane's lips as she turned to her kneading 
 197
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 again. "You ain't got a show at all in the 
 matter o' dress, if so be you've come with 
 the notion o' keepin' pace with Ena's aunt, 
 and havin' her note what you can do in the 
 way o' fashion. Just you peep through the 
 sittin'-room window and see that red dress 
 she's wearin' for common." 
 
 Aunt Loosher, though sorely tempted, 
 held her own. 
 
 "I ain't come with nothin' but neigh- 
 bourly feelin's, Ju, and maybe a notion that 
 I'd like to have her see the best of us. 
 That's only natural, I guess." 
 
 "She sees anything she wants to o' my 
 ways," said Mrs. McLane sturdily; "and I 
 ain't made no apologies. She's like Ena in 
 the way she takes things. I doubt if she's 
 so much as set her nose inside the parlour, 
 and I ain't asked her." 
 
 Aunt Loosher unfolded a small news- 
 paper parcel. 
 
 "I brought these two red wool mats with 
 me, Ju, thinkin' you'd sorter like to have 
 198
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 'em on the parlour table, now you've got 
 comp'ny. They smarten up the look of a 
 room considerable, and if you've got a vase 
 of any sort to put on 'em 
 
 "I ain't," said Mrs. McLane shortly. "I 
 had a blue one, but Jerry and Dan broke it, 
 playin' catapults, more'n a year ago. I guess 
 you hadn't better leave them mats, Loosher. 
 Likely somethin'll happen to 'em, and then 
 you'll be sorry." 
 
 "Well, if she don't sit in the parlour 
 
 "She don't," said Mrs. McLane. "She 
 sits on the porch, or under the trees, same's 
 she's doin' now." 
 
 Aunt Loosher stepped softly into the sit- 
 ting-room, taking up a position where she 
 could see and not be seen. When the bread 
 was in the oven, Mrs. McLane followed her. 
 The common love of gossip, which smoothes 
 down so many of the little jagged places in 
 everyday life, brought the two on to a con- 
 vivial footing again. 
 
 "She wears them clothes just for com-
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 mon," said Mrs. McLane, relishing her visi- 
 tor's surprise; "and when I took her a 'ging- 
 ham wrapper to sorter save 'em, she rapped 
 her stick. I notice she ain't doin' it none to 
 Ed. They're gettin' on real good together, 
 and talkin' fast enough to beat the band. 
 Seems she wanted to see him, though what 
 for in partic'lar I don't know." 
 
 "Maybe to get better acquainted with the 
 fam'ly," said Aunt Loosher, who was not 
 ill pleased with the distinction shown her 
 husband. "I won't go out till they get 
 through, 'cause it'd seem interruptin'. She 
 looks a bit of a crank, too, same as Ena's 
 mother always said she was." 
 
 "She ain't no notion that her brother 
 Hugo's ways is right, though she don't say 
 nothin' about him 'cept to herself." 
 
 "What does Ena say to this turn o' 
 things?" 
 
 "Nothin' whatever; we don't none of us 
 talk till we know what's to happen." 
 
 Aunt Lroosher would have liked to ask 
 200
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 more questions, but did not dare. A right- 
 eous contentment filled her that seeming 
 justice had at last arrived in the person of 
 Aunt Esther Chase, and she sat straighten- 
 ing her wristlets with an expression of satis- 
 faction, which she longed to put into words. 
 "There won't be none of us but what'll 
 feel sorter flat and slimpsy if so be she no- 
 tions to take Ena away with her," said Mrs. 
 McLane, who understood her sister far too 
 well not to know what was passing in her 
 mind. "I ain't never been sorry a minute 
 that I took her in, so no one can't never 
 wiggle their front finger at me same's to 
 say I warn't in the right after all. I don't 
 look at Rob McLane these days, nor Ross 
 neither. There's somethin' dumb about 'em 
 both that makes a body want to turn away 
 quick. Here's Ena, now, and if you want to 
 meet her aunt sorter fashionable and be real 
 introduced, you'll have to get Ena to do it, 
 'cause I've got my bread to look after, and 
 can't stop for no hanky-panky." 
 201
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 A little while later the whole party were 
 together on the porch ; Aunt Loosher, sitting 
 stiffly erect in her black Henrietta, secretly 
 amazed that so elegant and unusual a person 
 as Aunt Esther Chase should persistently 
 avoid the parlour. Such a state of things 
 did not seem exactly right, and Aunt 
 Loosher worried a little, feeling that her 
 attempts to impress the family gentility on 
 the stranger had been in vain. 
 
 "It ain't a bit o' use dressin' up and puttin' 
 on comp'ny manners, with Ju sittin' there so 
 awful home-like in her calico wrapper," 
 Aunt Loosher decided in chagrin. "Ju 
 never tried to make no appearance in front 
 o' strangers, and I guess she's just as willin' 
 as not that Ena's aunt should go back 
 thinkin' that we ain't got a good black dress 
 'twixt the lot of us. Seein' how things are 
 here, I'm glad I put mine on. I guess 
 it's 'cause she sees there's someone in the 
 fam'ly knows their manners that she's sorter 
 picked out Ed for special notice. What
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 should ha' kep' 'em talkin' so long I don't 
 know, but I'll hear goin' home to-night. She 
 don't speak to me real free-and-easy, but I 
 guess it's 'cause she sees I'm sorter diff'rent 
 to the others." 
 
 Pleased with the idea, Aunt Loosher re- 
 tired gracefully from general conversation, 
 and fell to studying fashions, as expressed 
 in the gown worn by the city visitor. Aunt 
 Esther noticed this after a time, and rapped 
 her stick; but the intimation went unre- 
 garded. 
 
 "Loosher 's all wropped up in the cut o' 
 your gown, thinkin', maybe, to make over 
 her own," said Mrs. McLane, with sly satis- 
 faction. "I will say, Loosher, your sleeves 
 don't look real stylish no more. Ain't you 
 got a bit o' the material left over, so's you 
 could balloon 'em up some?" 
 
 "They don't want it," said Aunt Loosher, 
 aggrieved to excess. "You know they don't, 
 Ju, and I can't see why you want to aggra- 
 vate. It ain't no use goin' to meetin' 
 203
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 reg'lar if it don't do you no good in your 
 daily life." 
 
 "Maybe they suit you as well just as they 
 are, you bein' so thin," answered Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane, usually ready to hush the storm she 
 stirred. "I ain't no great for fussin' over 
 such things, anyway. Your back's the 
 thing, not what's on it." 
 
 "All of us don't think that way," said 
 Aunt Loosher, who had never ceased to feel 
 she could have adorned something more dis- 
 tinguished than calico. "There ain't nothin' 
 like bein' nice appearin', and I hold with 
 everyone havin' one good dress made 
 sorter how you want it, 'stead o' how you 
 have to have it." 
 
 The little passage-at-arms had not been 
 lost on Aunt Esther, who now turned the 
 conversation adroitly. Peace was kept for 
 the remainder of the visit, and by the time 
 Aunt Loosher rose to go she had been made 
 to feel her efforts in the way of presenting 
 204
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 an appearance had not been in vain. 
 Soothed and comforted, she gave a cordial in- 
 vitation to her own home as she stepped into 
 the buggy. 
 
 "I am afraid not," Aunt Esther said 
 courteously. 
 
 "I ain't as great as some folks on leave- 
 takin's," said Aunt Loosher, " 'cause you 
 never know what wind'll blow you together 
 again. Just the same, if you don't give a 
 handshake to whoever's goin', it leaves you 
 with a sorter feelin' o' ravelled edges." 
 
 A thin hand was extended with the words, 
 and Aunt Esther responded. Uncle Ed 
 drew up the reins. 
 
 ''I've always had a sorter curious feelin' 
 about the real West," continued Aunt 
 Loosher. "If ever I could rely on my 
 knees- 
 Here the buggy moved off a little 
 hastily, it seemed and the rest of the re- 
 mark was lost. 
 
 205
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 "Maybe I don't ought to get Loosher so 
 riled," said Mrs. McLane repentantly, giv- 
 ing a farewell wave of extra vigour. "Seems 
 as if I can't help it, though, when she's 
 around, and I see so plain all the time just 
 where I can aggravate her. If only she 
 hid up her notions more I shouldn't be so 
 awful tempted." 
 
 "Your sister Lucia means well," said 
 Aunt Esther, feeling a platitude was the 
 only thing adequate to the occasion. "It 
 was friendly of her to call. She married a 
 good, kindly man, which is more than some 
 women have the sense to do." 
 
 "Uncle Ed is going home by the Creston 
 road," said Ena, watching the retreating 
 buggy curiously, as Mrs. McLane went into 
 the house. "It's the longest way, and yet 
 they were rather late in starting." 
 
 Aunt Esther stooped for her work-bag 
 and unrolled a strip of embroidery. "He 
 is obliging me over a matter," she said 
 206
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 quietly, "and he has promised not to delay. 
 By the way, Ena, if you have the oppor- 
 tunity to pack your large trunk to-morrow, 
 do so. It's the right thing now for us both 
 to pick up and be going!" 
 
 207
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ROSS sat with his hands round his 
 knees in the sunshine, watching the 
 waggon wind slowly down from the ridge 
 to the road. Dick and the twins were in it, 
 driving home from the fields to the noon- 
 day meal. Ross, left behind, watched them 
 half absently till they turned in amongst 
 the trees near the house; then his head 
 dropped down on his folded arms, and he 
 sat silently, quite forgetful of the dinner- 
 pail at his side. 
 
 This was Ena's last day at the farm. The 
 seven o'clock train that left Creston the fol- 
 lowing morning would bear away with it the 
 august form of Aunt Esther Chase, and the 
 slim girl she had stolen from the Wisconsin 
 farm. For a theft it was, in the eyes of 
 Ross, and between resentment and dismay 
 the last few days had been the most forlorn 
 208
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 of all his life. It was not his custom to 
 meet any situation with words, so that un- 
 toward events never had the chance of be- 
 ing mitigated by the joy of discussion. In 
 this way he was like his father, who had lived 
 in a whirlwind of words ever since his mar- 
 riage, and still remained outwardly impas- 
 sive. 
 
 Ena had become so much a part of his life 
 by now that it was impossible to imagine the 
 daily routine going on without her. Ross 
 felt as lost as a child in the dark when he 
 tried to do so, and involuntarily his mind 
 went back to the first evening of her ar- 
 rival, when he had been compelled to retire 
 to the woodshed in order to recover from the 
 excitement her coming had brought. For 
 from the first she had been something 
 familiar as well as unusual to him the 
 realisation of a dream come to him afore- 
 times from the land of his shadowy ambi- 
 tions. It seemed hard that her guiding 
 hand must fall from his clasp now. 
 209
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 The hot sun beat on the boy's neck, but 
 he kept his face hidden on his knee long 
 after the grinding of the waggon- wheels had 
 ceased. Thus he did not see a slender figure 
 running across the fields towards him with 
 feet that seemed winged, and the first inti- 
 mation of Ena's presence was Ena herself 
 standing before him. 
 
 "Ross!" She threw herself down by his 
 side, gasping a little for breath. "I 
 couldn't wait a minute to tell you. Aunt 
 Esther and Uncle Ed have been planning 
 about you, and you are to begin school this 
 term, after all." 
 
 Ena understood too well to expect ejacu- 
 lations, but she leaned a little closer at the 
 look in Ross's eyes. "Everything is ar- 
 ranged," she continued more quietly. "Mr. 
 Wrightson wants a boy to do chores on his 
 farm morning and evening, with the whole 
 day left free for school, and Uncle Ed has 
 fixed things so that you go. Aunt Esther 
 and your mother talked about it in the par- 
 210
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 lour for nearly a quarter of an hour, and 
 when they came out Aunt June said I might 
 come up and tell you there wouldn't be the 
 need for you to go to the woods the same as 
 had been planned for. I noticed Aunt 
 Esther was rapping her stick all the time in 
 the parlour." 
 
 Boy and girl laughed together, and the 
 feeling of tension melted. 
 
 "Only think it has come true at last, after 
 all our plans," Ena said eagerly. "You 
 must write me all about your high-school 
 work." 
 
 Remembrance came back to Ross sud- 
 denly, and his shoulders sunk. "But you're 
 going," he said dully. "I'll be alone." 
 
 "You won't." Ena slipped her brown 
 fingers into his large, work-worn hands. "I 
 shall think of you in some way every day 
 and thought is everything. You would 
 know that if you had ever loved anyone and 
 lost them awhile." Her eyes shadowed a mo- 
 ment at remembrances of the parents of
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 whom she never spoke. "You never need 
 feel alone," she added softly. "I shall know 
 exactly what your life is, and that will make 
 it easier for you to hear me thinking about 
 
 you." 
 
 Ross sat silent. As far as comfort could 
 be given she had given it. The old courage 
 began to throb again at his heart uncer- 
 tainly; the resolution to achieve lightened 
 his eyes. 
 
 "That's right." Ena smiled up at him 
 with rare sweetness. "It's the only way, 
 you know! We shall have those talks up in 
 the garret to remember. It seems so 
 good to feel that the time has come to 
 begin." 
 
 She rose, tying back the cloud of curls 
 that had been loosened in running. All her 
 active, practical nature was alert again. 
 Ross caught the flame of it, as he had often 
 done before. 
 
 "I forgot my dinner, too." Ena laughed, 
 pointing to the unopened pail. "Let's share
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 up now, and then I must go back. What 
 a good world it is, Ross!" 
 
 So she changed the spirit of his dream, 
 and they sat in the sunshine together, talk- 
 ing of the wonderful things that had hap- 
 pened. And after she had gone turning 
 to wave back at him once or twice he set 
 to work, with shoulders squared to resolu- 
 tion. Since she asked courage sooner than 
 repining, it was only loyal in him to give it! 
 Absent or present, there must be no disap- 
 pointing her! 
 
 When Ena got back to the kitchen, she 
 found Mrs. McLane busy surveying two 
 somewhat fanciful-looking bottles standing 
 on the table. 
 
 "They're meant for vases," she said in ex- 
 planation; "and Prue Perkins sent 'em for 
 you. She's stuffed 'em alternate with red 
 calico and salt, to make 'em look real bright 
 and pretty. It seems an awful waste o' 
 salt, and I don't know if it's what your 
 Aunt Esther'd think just artistic," pondered 
 213
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Mrs. McLane; "but Pine sent 'em with a 
 good heart, and so I guess you'd better stuff 
 'em in your trunk." 
 
 Ena clasped the two bottles, touched more 
 nearly to tears than laughter. 
 
 "Mandy brought 'em, and was real sorry 
 not to say good-bye, but I told her it was 
 just as well. I ain't no great on makin' a 
 specialty o' the lonesome things that comes 
 up in a body's life. I'll say, though, that 
 you've made a sight o' friends since 
 you've been here, and that's not a clear two 
 year yet. It's your mother's way you've 
 got. I guess you caught her smiles for 
 good." 
 
 Mrs. McLane was pushing an extra large 
 stick of wood in the stove. 
 
 "I'm goin' to make you a mess o' fried 
 cakes to take on the journey," she said, going 
 from one subject to another, with the un- 
 conscious irrelevance which annoyed her 
 family and amused strangers. "You won't 
 find the vittles on the train none too good
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 and wholesome just a dab o' this and a 
 dab o' that, and nothin' to fill up your 
 stomach good and plenty. I ain't never 
 tried it, o' course, but I've heerd about it 
 more'n once, and I sense from what your 
 Aunt Esther allows that there ain't no exag- 
 gerations. Just the same, when I offered to 
 put a couple o' baskets o' good wholesome 
 vittles some of it my best pickled pork 
 she wouldn't hear to it. How d'you think 
 you'll get on with her notional ways, Ena?" 
 
 Mrs. McLane paused in interest. Ena 
 laughed. 
 
 "You said her heart was good, Aunt 
 June." 
 
 "So it is," admitted Mrs. McLane. "I'm 
 glad you sense that that's the chief thing. 
 Just so long as you can dive down and not 
 find meanness in a body, you can shape 'em 
 up somehow to suit yourself. You'll do 
 more shapin' than bein' shaped, anyway," 
 finished Mrs. McLane, with penetration. 
 "See how you can coax round Ross, and him 
 215
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 so set in his ways from the cradle up. I'll 
 bet he thought this goin' to school was some 
 o' your fixin'. Didn't he take it real quiet?" 
 
 Ena nodded assent. 
 
 "Like his father," commented Mrs. Mc- 
 Lane. "Howso, I know what it means to the 
 boy, and I'm real glad. He always was 
 mortal peculiar and sorter sombre for a 
 young one. Never stood on his head 
 enough; but I've heard tell more'n once o' 
 people who took their age afore their youth, 
 and so I ain't never worried none. I read 
 once that it was a good way to do, for people 
 who'd got the 'get-there' feelin' in 'em, and 
 maybe that's so. Anyway, I ain't got no 
 fears for Ross, since things has just hap- 
 pened to slide round so's to give him a hold." 
 
 Filled with this cheerful philosophy of 
 chance, Mrs. McLane finished the fried 
 cakes, and Ena went upstairs smiling a little. 
 She had not ventured to point to anything 
 beyond what Mrs. McLane saw, knowing 
 disillusion to be impossible. 
 216
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 In spite of Mrs. McLane's persistent air 
 of nonchalance, there was something depress- 
 ing in the atmosphere of the farmhouse that 
 evening. Ross came home for supper, but 
 vanished again directly afterwards, and 
 when Ena went up to bed the garret room 
 was still empty. She sat down for a mo- 
 ment in the strange little chamber of 
 dreams, thinking over the past, and wonder- 
 ing about the future; wishing, with all the 
 impatience of fifteen, that the veil could be 
 lifted a little. 
 
 Robert McLane had put his hand tremu- 
 lously on Ena's curls in saying good-night, 
 and evidently he wished that to mean fare- 
 well, for he did not appear the next morn- 
 ing. Aunt Esther, in the gown of rose 
 linen which presented such perpetual pos- 
 sibilities to Mrs. McLane, descended be- 
 times, and seemed active everywhere. 
 
 "Come to see if I ain't got a notion o' 
 tuckin' a basket o' vittles in somewhere at 
 the last moment," pronounced Mrs. Mc- 
 217
 
 HE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANk 
 
 Lane. "Don't you tell her about them fried 
 cakes, Ena, till you're well on the way, and 
 then I'll warrant she'll be glad enough I had 
 the contrariness to put 'em in. I'm bound 
 to say that if she and me lived together 
 there'd be a pernickety time tryin' to keep 
 one ahead o' the other." 
 
 Greatly to Ena's surprise, it was Mrs. 
 McLane who broke down when the moment 
 for parting came. Dick and the twins had 
 kissed good-bye stoically, but Mrs. McLane 
 brought the corner of her gingham apron 
 to her eye. 
 
 "I've been so busy fortifyin' everyone else 
 that I ain't had no time to brace up my- 
 self," she explained apologetically. "Land 
 sakes, Ena! don't you start cryin' too, but 
 get in the buggy, 'cause Ross is waitin'. I 
 shall be all right just when the first thing 
 takes my 'tention off." 
 
 The prophecy proved almost instant in its 
 fulfilment, for, as Ena stepped rather 
 falteringly into the buggy, and Aunt Esther 
 218
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 Chase moved to give her room, the glint of 
 the latter's gown caught Mrs. McLane's 
 eye, and reminded her of a forgotten injunc- 
 tion. She ran forward in a hurry. 
 
 "You be sure to send me that red dress 
 when your aunt's clear got through with it," 
 she whispered anxiously, ' as Ena bent her 
 head. "I'll be awful disappointed if you for- 
 get, Ena. It'll make just a lovely stripe in 
 a rag-carpet." 
 
 ***** 
 
 The drive to Creston was a cheerful one, 
 in spite of the circumstances. Aunt Esther 
 seemed less contemplative than usual, and 
 talked freely. Thus, at the last moment, 
 she opened up a new side of her character 
 to Ross. 
 
 Just a mile before Creston was reached 
 they passed the Wrightson farm. Ena 
 made Ross drive slowly, so that she could 
 take in the details of the place, which she 
 had never noticed particularly before; and 
 Aunt Esther put on her eyeglasses with an 
 819
 
 THE MOTTO OF MRS. McLANE 
 
 air of criticism which gradually melted to 
 approbation. Much too wise to administer 
 any little homily to Ross concerning his 
 future, she refrained from comment of any 
 sort, and sat in silence till the "depot" was 
 reached. 
 
 The train was already at the platform. 
 Ross looked at it with a sense of sudden 
 shock, the desolation of the last moment full 
 upon him. Deliberately he turned away, 
 throwing an arm round old Libby's neck. 
 His heart was beating quickly, with a 
 strange, new feeling he did not understand, 
 and, like one in a dream, he turned, to find 
 Ena at his side. She drew down his head 
 and kissed him on the lips. 
 
 "Good-bye." For a moment she clung to 
 him in a way that made him protector. "I 
 don't feel that it is farewell, you know. I 
 don't believe it is really going to be good- 
 bye." 
 
 THE END 
 
 220
 
 A 000118715 2