132 



WHEAT AND WOMAN 



" What shall you do if anyone comes to the house 

 and asks to sleep, or anything ? " was the next 

 question. 



" I should tell them that I was living alone, and 

 it wasn't convenient, and that there was a bachelor's 

 shack and a hearty welcome at every other 

 corner." 



'* Well, they wouldn't think much of your sense 

 of hospitality. It is considered very bad form to 

 send people on to a neighbour if they want a meal 

 or a night's lodging on the prairie. It's nothing to 

 do with the ' angels unaware ' theory and that 

 kind of thing, you know. And they are always quite 

 prepared to pay for their meals. But you really 

 can't refuse." 



" Very well," I agreed, " I will lock my door, and 

 tell them to make the best of all the rest of the 

 house and what they can find in it." 



" I have never known anyone come yet except 

 a stray policeman," he said consolingly. " Only 

 work-seekers will be about soon, so I thought I had 

 better prepare you. ' When you are in Rome,' you 

 know." 



On Sunday, February 25, the east wind was 

 blowing hard, and my brother and I were discussing 

 his stopping-house plans over our midday meal, 

 when there was a great announcement of arrival 

 from his dog. 



" By Jove ! there's a man and team leadin' a 

 horse ! " he exclaimed. " And such a jolly little 

 beast ! " 



" It's Nancy," I said, " and Mr. Edwardes ! " and 

 promptly flew out to meet them, forgetting hat and 

 gloves and the terror of frost-bitten flesh. 



i^ 



