Myrtle received them with a sort of state which defied the imputation of sadness. "Did he seem comfortable?" she asked.
"Comfortable, Mrs. Dodd? I believe it will mean a new lease of life to your husband. He is an un-common man."
"Yes, Christopher is uncommon; he always was,"assented Myrtle.
"You have everything you want? You were not timid last night alone?" asked the minister.
"Yes, I was timid. I heard queer noises," said Myrtle, "but I sha'n't be alone any more. Chris-topher's niece wrote me she was coming to make a visit. She has been teaching school, and she lost her school. I rather guess Ellen is as uncommon for a girl as Christopher is for a man. Anyway, she's lost her school, and her brother's married, and she don't want to go there. Besides, they live in Boston, and Ellen, she says she can't bear the city in spring and summer. She wrote she'd saved a little, and she'd pay her board, but I sha'n't touch a dollar of her little savings, and neither would Christopher want me to. He's always thought a sight of Ellen, though he's never seen much of her. As for me, Iwas so glad when her letter came I didn't know what to do. Christopher will be glad. I suppose you'll be going up there to see him off and on." Myrtle spoke a bit wistfully, and Ste-phen did not tell her he had been urged to come often.
"Yes, off and on," he replied.
"If you will just let me know when you are going, I will see that you have something to take to him -- some bread and pies.""He has some chickens there," said Stephen.
"Has he got a coop for them?"
"Yes, he had one rigged up. He will have plenty of eggs, and he carried up bacon and corn meal and tea and coffee.""I am glad of that," said Myrtle. She spoke with a quiet dignity, but her face never lost its expression of bewilderment and resignation.
The next week Stephen Wheaton carried Myrtle's bread and pies to Christopher on his mountainside.
He drove Christopher's gray horse harnessed in his old buggy, and realized that he himself was getting much pleasure out of the other man's idiosyncrasy.
The morning was beautiful, and Stephen carried in his mind a peculiar new beauty, besides. Ellen, Christopher's niece, had arrived the night before, and, early as it was, she had been astir when he reached the Dodd house. She had opened the door for him, and she was a goodly sight: a tall girl, shaped like a boy, with a fearless face of great beauty crowned with compact gold braids and lit by un-swerving blue eyes. Ellen had a square, determined chin and a brow of high resolve.
"Good morning," said she, and as she spoke she evidently rated Stephen and approved, for she smiled genially. "I am Mr. Dodd's niece," said she. "You are the minister?""Yes."
"And you have come for the things aunt is to send him?""Yes."
"Aunt said you were to drive uncle's horse and take the buggy," said Ellen. "It is very kind of you.
While you are harnessing, aunt and I will pack the basket."Stephen, harnessing the gray horse, had a sense of shock; whether pleasant or otherwise, he could not determine. He had never seen a girl in the least like Ellen. Girls had never impressed him. She did.
When he drove around to the kitchen door she and Myrtle were both there, and he drank a cup of coffee before starting, and Myrtle introduced him.
"Only think, Mr. Wheaton," said she, "Ellen says she knows a great deal about farming, and we are going to hire Jim Mason and go right ahead."Myrtle looked adoringly at Ellen.
Stephen spoke eagerly. "Don't hire anybody,"he said. "I used to work on a farm to pay my way through college. I need the exercise. Let me help.""You may do that," said Ellen, "on shares.
Neither aunt nor I can think of letting you work without any recompense.""Well, we will settle that," Stephen replied.
When he drove away, his usually calm mind was in a tumult.
"Your niece has come," he told Christopher, when the two men were breakfasting together on Silver Mountain.
