Olive, not being able to understand what Brother Wright was saying, employed herself in watching Madame, who sat motionless beside her table, resting her head upon her supple white hand. At her feet lay what seemed to be a large brown rug, but was in fact her dog Balthasar, a blood-hound, who always stayed with her and was as gentle as a lamb, notwithstanding his name and breed. “Brother Green! That’s the second time you’ve snored,” suddenly exclaimed Brother Wright in the midst of his reading. Everybody was wide awake in an instant. Madame hid a smile with her hand, but not before Olive had noticed it. “Brother Green is perhaps tired. His work is very hard,” said Madame. “Well, the fact is I had to put a new point to the ploughshare this morning before I went to fetch my load of iron, and I began work before daybreak. I am very tired.” Brother Green was the blacksmith of Perfection City, an industrious hard-working man who thought life would show him a fairer side on the prairie than it had ever done in the far-away village in Sussex where he was born. “I think that it might be better to have our gatherings rather shorter now,” said Madame softly. “The workers in our little hive are all tired. I wish I could do more of the labour that is needed. I would gladly——” Madame was interrupted by a sharp rap on the table, a signal from Brother Huntley that he wanted to speak. He was the deaf and dumb man. She instantly rose and bowed to him with singular graciousness. Madame’s manner towards the deaf brethren was all that was exquisite. Huntley stood up and began in a voice almost inaudible which rose by sudden degrees to the intensity of a steam-whistle. “I want to know when we’re going to get our corn planted? We’re behindhand; most other folk’s corn is in already.” “As usual, Brother Huntley has something practical to say,” observed Madame. “He didn’t know we were discussing quite another subject, else his remark would have been rude and irrelevant,” said Wright, vexed at this cutting into his paper on the ultimate perfection of his and everybody’s being. “I think it would be very useful to see what we can do about the corn,” said the blacksmith. “If we are late the chances are there’ll be another drought in July, and our crop won’t be first-class.” “Is anyone’s land ready for planting?” inquired Madame. “None as I know of, except Brother Dummy’s,” said Uncle David. “He’s more forward nor anybody: always first in work.” “Of course, poor deaf creature! he can’t do anything but dumbly work like a——” began Brother Wright. “My land is ready for planting,” burst in Brother Huntley with a scream. “Then it shall be planted to-morrow,” cried Madame. “I’ll go myself.” “You!” exclaimed Olive. “Certainly, child. Don’t you think I can work as well as any other woman?”