farm.  There was a history of typhoid fever, and as Elizabeth soon suspected, an incipient history of drink.  In the first two years of his Canadian life the man worked for a farmer during the summer, and loafed in Winnipeg during the winter.  There demoralisation had begun, and as Elizabeth listened, the shadow of the Old World seemed to be creeping across the radiant Canadian landscape.  The same woes?—­the same weaknesses?—­the same problems of an unsound urban life?

Her heart sank for a moment—­only to provoke an instant reaction of cheerfulness.  No!—­in Canada the human will has still room to work, and is not yet choked by a jungle growth of interests.

She waited for Anderson to come in, and meanwhile she warmed and comforted the mother.  The poor girl looked round her in amazement at the pretty spacious room, as she spread her hands, knotted and coarsened by work, to the blaze.  Elizabeth held her sickly babe, rocking it and crooning to it, while upstairs one of kind-eyed Cumberland women was getting a warm bath ready, and lighting a fire in the guest-room.

“How old is it?” she asked.

“Thirteen months.”

“You ought to give up nursing it.  It would be better for you both.”

“I tried giving it a bit o’ what we had ourselves,” said the mother, dully—­“But I nearly lost her.”

“I should think so!” laughed Elizabeth indignantly; and she began to preach rational ways of feeding and caring for the child, while the mother sat by, despondent, and too crushed and hopeless to take much notice.  Presently Elizabeth gave her back the babe, and went to fetch hot tea and bread and butter.

“Shall I come and get it in the kitchen?” said the woman, rising.

“No, no—­stay where you are!” cried Elizabeth.  And she was just carrying back a laden tray from the dining-room when Anderson caught her.

“Darling!—­that’s too heavy for you!—­what are you about?”

“There’s a woman in there who’s got to be fed—­and there’s a man in there”—­she pointed to the kitchen—­“who’s got to be talked to.  Hopeless case!—­so you’d better go and see about it!”

She laughed happily in his face, and he snatched a kiss from her as he carried off the tray.

The woman by the fire rose again in amazement as she saw the broad-shouldered handsome man who was bringing in the tea.  Anderson had been tramping through the thin-lying snow all day, inquiring into the water-supply of a distant portion of the farm.  He was ruddy with exercise, and the physical strength that seemed to radiate from him intimidated the wanderer.

“Where are you bound to?” he said kindly, as he put down the tea beside her.

The woman, falteringly, told her story.  Anderson frowned a little.

“Well, I’d better go and talk to your husband.  Mrs. Anderson will look after you.”

And Elizabeth held the baby, while the woman fed languidly—­too tired and spiritless indeed to eat.