night and how much I'm to give them in the morning, and let me take the whole
care of them for a month, get the eggs, and all. If they don't do so well,
then I'll resign. I can't break you in a month."

"It looks more as if you'd make me. You have a good big bump of order, and I
haven't any at all in little things. Tom Watterly was right. If I had tried
to live here alone, things would have got into an awful mess. I feel ashamed
of myself that I didn't clear up the yard before, but my whole mind's been on
the main crops."

"As it should be. Don't you worry about the little things. They belong to
me. Now show me about the chickens, or they'll go to roost while we're
talking."

"But I, as well as the chickens, shall want some supper."

"I won't let either of you starve. You'll see."

"Well, you see this little measure? You fill it from this bin with this
mixture of corn and wheat screenings. That's the allowance, morning and
evening. Then you go out to the barnyard there, and call 'kip, kip, kip.'
That's the way my wife used--" He stopped in a little embarrassment.

"I'd be glad if I could do everything as she did," said Alida gently. "It has
grown clearer every day how hard her loss was to you. If you'll tell me what
she did and how she did things--" and she hesitated.

"That's good of you, Alida," he replied gratefully. Then, with his directness
of speech, he added, "I believe some women are inclined to be jealous even of
the dead."