THE DIGNITY (?) OF TOIL

By such imperceptible degrees that she was scarce aware of it, Stella
took her place as a cog in her brother's logging machine, a unit in the
human mechanism which he operated skilfully and relentlessly at top
speed to achieve his desired end--one million feet of timber in
boomsticks by September the first.

From the evening that she stepped into the breach created by a drunken
cook, the kitchen burden settled steadily upon her shoulders. For a week
Benton daily expected and spoke of the arrival of a new cook. Fyfe had
wired a Vancouver employment agency to send one, the day he took Jim
Renfrew down. But either cooks were scarce, or the order went astray,
for no rough and ready kitchen mechanic arrived. Benton in the meantime
ceased to look for one. He worked like a horse, unsparing of himself,
unsparing of others. He rose at half-past four, lighted the kitchen
fire, roused Stella, and helped her prepare breakfast, preliminary to
his day in the woods. Later he impressed Katy John into service to wait
on the table and wash dishes. He labored patiently to teach Stella
certain simple tricks of cooking that she did not know.

Quick of perception, as thorough as her brother in whatsoever she set
her hand to do, Stella was soon equal to the job. And as the days
passed and no camp cook came to their relief, Benton left the job to her
as a matter of course.

"You can handle that kitchen with Katy as well as a man," he said to her
at last. "And it will give you something to occupy your time. I'd have
to pay a cook seventy dollars a month. Katy draws twenty-five. You can
credit yourself with the balance, and I'll pay off when the contract