“Perhaps they do, but I was never the ordinary kind of woman; my mother always said I was sort of one by meself, and she was right.  When Mrs. Burton was staying here, with them two blessed babies, I used to marvel how she could laugh and carry on as she did, while the hungry sea as drowned her husband rocked at the very door of the house.  Now, if it had been me, and my husband lay somewhere out there under the grey, heaving water, I could not have sung and danced and played hop-scotch, blindman’s buff, and things of that sort, the same as she did.”

Katherine’s lips took on a scornful curl, and there was an indignant light in her eyes as she retorted:  “No, I expect if Mr. M’Crawney died you would wear crape a yard deep all round your frocks, and talk morning, noon, and night of how much you loved him.  But I am quite sure that he would love you a great deal more if you took the trouble to give him tidy rooms and well-cooked meals.  If I were a man I should just hate a woman who treated me as badly as you treat Mr. M’Crawney.”

“Hooray, you’ve got it now, and no mistake, old woman!” interjected Peter, rubbing his hands in huge enjoyment of the scene.  Katherine had forgotten all about him, or it is possible she would not have spoken so plainly; as it was, at the sound of his laugh, she turned with a swift apology to Mrs. M’Crawney.

“Please forgive me, I have no right to meddle in your concerns; but it just makes me feel wrathful to see you throwing away the happiness you might have, and existing in such dirt and discomfort, when everything about you might be clean, sweet, and wholesome.”

Mrs. M’Crawney dropped into a rocking-chair and laughed in great amusement.  “Sure, it is as good as going to a theaytre to see you a-carrying on and lecturing me with the stormlight in your eyes.  You are a very pretty girl anyhow, but when you are angry it is downright lovely that you are.  I’d forgive ye for a deal more than telling the truth, if you’d only come a bit oftener and row me.”

“I say, Katherine, are you nearly ready to start?” asked Phil, putting his head in at the door.  He had been with Simon to inspect some tame wolf cubs; but, seeing that the weather was growing more threatening, had decided that the sooner they got away from Fort Garry the better.

“Yes, I will be ready in two minutes,” Katherine answered; and, receiving payment for the pelts in a written order upon the Company, which she tied in a bag round her neck for safety, she drew on her coat, tied her hat securely on her head, and declared herself ready to start.

A fine rain was beginning to blur the sea like a fog, and she realized that the journey before her might be a great deal worse than she had expected.

“Good-bye, my dear; a safe journey to you, and the best of luck always!” exclaimed Mrs. M’Crawney, following her to the door.  Then, seizing her in a bearlike embrace, the Irishwoman whispered:  “It is downright ashamed of myself you’ve made me; and if I don’t do better in future, then my name is not Juliana Kathleen M’Crawney, and never has been!”