But Harry was firm. She not only thought it her duty to stay on the homestead, but she felt a sort of pride in staying there alone. Her solitary drive, her adventure in the city of rocks, had waked a new spirit within her, and that spirit was struggling to express itself. She was, however, quite unconscious of that. "Please let me cook breakfast," she said suddenly. "I'm sure I can if you'll just tell me how you have things. I can fry the potatoes and make good coffee, anyhow." "Well, I b'lieve I will let you. 'Tain't real good manners to set your comp'ny to work, but you'll excuse me this once, I guess. I couldn't even dress the baby this morning--had to leave that to Vashti. Say," she added, "you couldn't stay a week and cook for me while these boys are here, could you?" Harry grew rather pink and stammered a polite refusal. "Well," said Mrs. Robinson, "I know you ain't used to this kind of work, but any one can see you're smart. You'd get the hang of things in half a day." "I'd stay in a minute," Harry assured her, "just because you were so kind to us when Rob got hurt. But you know how it is, with all these cattle round, and ours just new to the place. If they should get out, they might get way across the river before Rob comes home." "Yes, that's right. And you two have got to work together if you're goin' to make anything of homesteadin'. Pity you didn't take up a claim of your own while you were at it. A girl that's got a hundred and sixty in her own name is as independent as anyone." "Yes, I'm sorry I didn't; but there's plenty to do, even on Rob's land." "Ain't that the truth! Just wait until you get a crop in, though, and are lookin' for harvest hands--" "We shan't have that trouble for a year or two, anyhow. Rob expects to go out to work, haying and harvesting for other people, and I suppose I shall stay at home and look after things." "Say! Why couldn't you come over and help me at haying and harvesting? I'd pay you five a week and your board, and it'd keep the traces stiff here. Seems like the wagon is allus on my heels, as you might say, in the rush season." "I'll come if I can," Harry promised. She turned out the crisp, brown potatoes, poured the gravy into a bowl, and set the coffee back while she fried the eggs. Mrs. Robinson went out to pull the bell rope. The big iron bell hanging from the gable clanged its call, and a shout answered from the corral. While Mrs. Robinson was overseeing the morning ablutions of the smaller children, who had come tumbling into the room at the sound of the bell, Harry went to the door to get a breath of fresh air after the heat and smoke of the kitchen.