Page:From the West to the West.djvu/25

 A black cloud scudded away before the wind, uncovering the face of the moon. The silver light burst suddenly upon the pair.

"What's the matter, Annie?" cried the husband, in alarm. "Are you sick?" Her upturned face was like ashes.

"No; It's nothing. I was only thinking."

They entered the house together, their brains busy with unuttered thoughts. The baby of less than a year extended her chubby hands to her father, and the older babies clamored for recognition in roistering glee.

"Take my coat and hat, Hal; and get my slippers, somebody. Don't all jump at once! Gals, put down your books, and go to the kitchen and help your mother. Don't sit around like so many cash boarders! You oughtn't to let your mother do a stroke of work at anything."

"You couldn't help it unless you caged her, or bound her hand and foot," answered Jean, who strongly resembled her father in disposition, voice, and speech. But the command was obeyed; and the pale-faced mother, escorted from the kitchen amid much laughter by Mary, Marjorie, and Jean, was soon seated before the roaring fire beside her husband, enjoying with him the frolics of the babies, and banishing for the nonce the subject which had so engrossed their thoughts outside. The delayed meal was soon steaming on the long table in the low, lean-to kitchen, and was despatched with avidity by the healthy and ravenous brood which constituted the good old-fashioned household of John Ranger and Annie Robinson, his wife.

"Children," said Mrs. Ranger, as an interval of silence gave her a chance to be heard, "did you know your father had sold the farm?"

A thunderbolt from a clear sky would hardly have created greater astonishment. True, John Ranger had been talking "new country" ever since the older children could remember anything; the theme was an old story,