her in to his wife.

Mrs. Wade felt an inexplicable hurt at the decidedness of little
Rose's preference for Martin. She could not understand it. She
took exquisite care of her, cooked the things she liked best, let
her mess to her heart's content in the kitchen, made her dolls
pretty frocks, cuddled her, told her stories and stopped her work
to play with her on rainy days--but she could not win the same
affection the little girl bestowed so lavishly on Martin. If left
to herself she was always to be found with the big, silent man.

As the month's visit lengthened into three, it was astonishing
what good times they had together. If he was pitching hay, her
slender little figure, short dress a-flutter, was to be seen
standing on the fragrant wagonload. At threshing time, she darted
lightly all over the separator, Martin's watchful eye constantly
upon her, and his protective hand near her. She went with him to
haul the grain to mill and was fascinated by the big scales. On
the way there and back he let her hold the great lines in her
little fists. In the dewy mornings, she hop-skipped and jumped by
his side into the pasture to bring in the cows. She flitted in
and out among them during milking time.

"I think she makes them too nervous, Martin," Rose had once
remarked. "Better run out, darling, until we finish and then come
help auntie in the dairy."

"They might as well get used to her," he had answered tersely.
"It'll hurt her feelings to be sent away."