"The world seems to have died," said Jean after a long period of thoughtfulness. The expression was an appropriate one. The world was, actually, dead. Every blade of grass was a stark little corpse, swaying ghostily to the stir of the cold air. Soon the shroud of Winter would be woven about them, flake by flake, mantling them all in its cold, white tomb. "But in the spring it will live again," Jean continued, after a pause. "That is the life eternal." Jean was a strange girl. Her thoughts went on and on, reaching out, and out. She seemed to live always on the verge of the infinite. . . . At length we were at Brown's. The rickety shack, smaller than either of ours, presented a sad and forlorn appearance. Three little faces were crowded in the single window that covered our approach. Brown himself was busy building a stable of sods, and succeeding very badly in his work. He could scarcely be distinguished from his building material, but when he saw us he shook himself, as a dog shakes off water, and came up, touching his cap. "We are your neighbours from Fourteen," we announced ourselves. "May we go in?" "You may, and welcome," he said. "The wife will be a bit fuddled. I'm not the most presentable, myself." Then Jean did a great thing; one of those wonderful things that no one but Jean seemed to think of. She clambered to the side of the wagon and held out her arms. "I'm all dirt, Miss," Brown protested. "I'm all earth and sand." But he came slowly forward to her outstretched arms, and when his hands reached hers he took her and gently helped her down. "Thank you, Mr. Brown," she said. But Brown was looking at her and at us with eyes that had suddenly gone misty with a mist not of the sods or of the sand. Two little pools of water gathered and streaked a slow, dusty course across his grimy face. . . . Inside we found Mrs. Brown 'a bit fuddled,' as her husband had predicted. At first she merely stood wringing her hands, but when Jean and Marjorie kissed her, and then kissed the little Browns, the veil suddenly lifted and she was all kindness and hospitality. What a day it was, after we began to get acquainted! Marjorie and Jean had brought some home-made candy, and in a few minutes the little Browns were smeared and happy and slipping gently about looking into the faces of our girls as though they verily believed them angels.