She had the feeling that she was still a free agent as long as she remained outside. Once her foot had crossed the threshold----! It was like getting into an ice-cold bath. She dreaded the plunge. However, it must be taken. He was standing stock-still in the middle of the room as she reached the door, his heavy brows drawn together. "I'm quite stiff after that long drive." The moment the words were out of her mouth she wished to recall them. This was no way to begin. It was actually as if she had been trying to excuse herself for not coming more quickly when she was called. His whole attitude of frowning impatience showed that he had expected her to come at the sound of his voice. His face cleared at once. "Are you cold?" he asked with a certain anxiety. "No, not a bit; I was so well wrapped up." "Well, it's freezing pretty hard. But, you see, it's your first winter and you won't feel the cold like we do?" "How odd," said Nora. "I'll just bring some of the things in." She had an odd feeling that she didn't want to be alone with him just now, and said the first thing that entered her head. "Don't touch the trunk, it's too heavy for you." "Oh, I'm as strong as a horse." "Don't _touch_ it." "I won't," she laughed. He brushed by her and went on out to the rig, returning almost instantly with an arm full of parcels. "We could all do with a cup of tea. Just have a look at the stove. It won't take two shakes to light a fire." "It seems hardly worth while; it's so late." "Oh, light the fire, my girl, and don't talk about it," he said good-humoredly. On her knees before the stove, with her face as flushed as if it were already glowing, Nora raked away at the ashes. Through the open doorway she could see her husband and Mr. Sharp unfasten the trunk from the back of the wagon and start with it toward the house. "This trunk of yours ain't what you might call light, Mrs. Taylor," said Sharp good-naturedly as he stepped over the threshold. "You see it holds everything I own in the world," said Nora lightly. "I guess it don't do that," laughed her husband. "Since this morning, you own a half share in a hundred and sixty acres of as good land as there is in the Province of Manitoba, and a mighty good shack, if I did build it all myself." "To say nothing of a husband," retorted Nora. "Where do you want it put?" asked Sharp. "It 'ud better go in the next room right away. We don't want to be falling over it." As they were carrying it in, Nora, with a rather helpless air, carried a couple of logs and a handful of newspapers over from the pile in the corner. "Here, you'll never be able to light a fire with logs like that. Where's that darned ax? I'll chop 'em for you. I guess you'll have plenty to do getting the shack tidy." After a little searching, he found the ax back of the wood-pile and set himself to splitting the logs. In the meantime, Sharp, who had made another pilgrimage to the rig, returned carrying his friend's grip and gun.