sewing-machine. Willis was hardly aware of any presence in the room save
his own until a warm hand was laid gently on his and a dish of snowy
popcorn set in his lap. He had been so engrossed with his own fancies
that he had not seen his mother enter the firelit room and come toward
him.

"Well, my boy; what are you dreaming of tonight?" she asked, as she
seated herself in her accustomed place on the arm of his chair and placed
her arm gently on his shoulder.

"O, I've just been planning a bit, mother," he said with a smile.
"Sometimes when I sit here by this old fire I forget myself. I travel to
the strangest lands and think the strangest thoughts. Still, they all
seem so very real to me that when I try not to think of them a peculiar
restlessness comes over me. I can hardly wait for summer and the great
big out-of-doors. Did you ever think, mother, what life would be if we
didn't have the birds and the bees and the flowers? Are people in the
cities happy and contented without them? I've often wondered. I suppose
some day I'll be going to the city to live, as all the other boys have
done; but when I think of it it makes me sad. I don't believe I'd ever be
happy in the city, mother, unless--"

He paused long enough to stir up the fire and put on another log.

"Unless what, Willis?" his mother inquired.

"Unless--" he hesitated as if thinking. "I could go West to where father
was."

His mother listened as he went on. "The schoolmaster was telling us today