did not care. She clung to him with all her strength. What matter that he was huge and ugly?
It was several hours before they went downstairs again. Mary's face was flushed as she set about preparing a meal. It was the first time in years that she had tried her hand at cooking. As she worked about the pots and pans, she sang snatches of song.
Meanwhile Yekial Meigs hovered about. He was much satisfied with everything. He had not made a mistake. Mary Blaine was a jewel. With her always beside him he would have eyes for no other woman. What pleased him most was that he had not had to marry her. He was utterly free, yet no bridegroom could have been happier.
As the days wore on Mary gradually adjusted herself to farm conditions. It was like a swing back to her childhood. The novelty appealed to her. It was funny, this working and slaving like an honest woman. It was virtually slavery because there was a tremendous amount of work to be done and she had no one to help her. Yekial considered that all household tasks were the work of women. He contented himself with the care of the cattle and the fields. And he did his work well for all his crops gave evidence of being bounteous.
The house was large. Upstairs there were five sleeping rooms. Mary swept and cleaned them every day. She wanted the house to look spick and span and besides she didn't like sitting around doing nothing. When she did stop work for a few moments she grew restless. She was not used to silence. It did not bring peace to her soul. Noise, noise, that was music to her. The noise of cities, the tramp of heavy shoes through halls, and men. Fortunately she had a great deal of work to do and she slept from sheer weariness when she went to bed.
Frequently Yekial Meigs liked to sit on the veranda in the cool of the evenings, smoking his pipe and gazing off thoughtfully over the green of the country. When there was moonlight it was possible to see for miles in every direction. The immensity was awe-inspiring. It was as though they were the last two dwellers on the threshold of life.
As a rule Mary made excuses so that she would not have to
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