The girl slipped her strong, brown hand out of her huge glove and gave him a friendly grip. "Get right in," she said. "Herman, you're going to stand up behind." Herman appealed to Mrs. Mills for sympathy. "This is what comes of having plebeian connections." "Oh, dry up," laughed the girl, "or I'll make you drive." Stacey scrambled in awkwardly beside her. She was not at all embarrassed, apparently. "Tuck yourself in tight. It's mighty cold on the prairie." "Why didn't you come down with the baroosh?" grumbled Herman. "Well, the corn was contracted for, and father wasn't able to come--he had another attack of neuralgia last night, after he got the corn loaded, so I had to come." "Sha'n't I drive for you?" asked Wallace. "No, thank you. You'll have all you can do to keep from freezing." She studied his thin coat and worn gloves with keen glance. He could see only her pink cheeks, strong nose, and dark, smiling eyes. It was one of those terrible Illinois days when the temperature drops suddenly to zero, and the churned mud of the highways hardens into scoriac rock, which cripples the horses and sends the heavy wagons booming and thundering along like mad things. The wind was keen as a saw-bladed sword, and smote incessantly. The desolate sky was one thick, impenetrable mass of swiftly flying clouds. When they swung out upon the long pike leading due north, Wallace drew his breath with a gasp, and bent his head to the wind. "Pretty strong, isn't it?" shouted Mattie. "Oh, the farmer's life is the life for me, tra-la!" sang Herman, from his shelter behind the seat. Mattie turned. "What do you think of _Penelope_ this month?" "She's a-gitten there," said Herman, pounding his shoe heels. "She's too smart for young Corey. She ought to marry a man like Bromfield. My, wouldn't they talk!" "Did y' get the second bundle of magazines last Saturday?" "Yes; and Dad found something in the _Popular Science_ that made him mad, and he burned it." "Did 'e? Tum-la-la! Oh, the farmer's life for me!" "Are you cold?" she asked Wallace. He turned a purple face upon her. "No--not much." "I guess you better slip right down under the blankets," she advised. The wind blew gray out of the north--a wild blast which stopped the young student's blood in his veins. He hated to give up, but he could no longer hold the blankets over his knees, so he slipped down into the corner of the box, with his back to the wind, while Mattie drew the blankets over his head, slapped the reins down on the backs of the snorting horses, and encouraged them with shouts like a man: "Get out o' this, Dan! Hup there, Nellie!" The wagon boomed and rattled. The floor of the box seemed beaten with a maul. The glimpses Wallace had of the land appalled him, it was so flat and gray and bare.