of the climate, the warm-hearted hospitality of the settlers.

"None of your pin-head two-by-four shysters that you see here in the
East," exclaimed Mr. Sleighter. "I mean some folks, of course," he
explained in some confusion.

"And the children, did they like it?" inquired Mrs. Gwynne.

"You bet they did. Why, they was all over the hull prairie, all day and
all night, too, mostly--on ponies you know."

"Ponies!" exclaimed Larry. "Did they have ponies? Could they ride? How
big are they?"

"How big? Blamed if I know. Let's see. There's Tom. He's just about a
man, or thinks he is. He's sixteen or seventeen. Just now he's in the
high school at Winnipeg. He don't like it though." Here a shadow fell on
Mr. Sleighter's face. "And the girls--there's Hazel, she's fifteen,
and Ethel Mary, she's eleven or somewhere thereabouts. I never can keep
track of them. They keep againin' on me all the time."

"Yes," said Mrs. Gwynne. "It is hard to realise that they are growing up
and will soon be away from us."

"That's so," said Mr. Sleighter.

"And the schools," continued Mrs. Gwynne, "are there good schools?"

"Schools?" exclaimed Mr. Sleighter. "There's a real good school not more
than a couple of miles away."