This untidy, comfortless, bedraggled room was now hers, her home! She would not have believed that any human habitation could be so hopelessly dreary. The walls were not even sealed, as at the brother's. Tacked, here and there, against the logs were pictures cut from illustrated papers, unframed, just as they were. The furniture, with the exception of the inevitable rocking-chair, worn and shabby from hard use, had apparently been made by Frank, himself, out of old packing boxes. The table had been fashioned by the same hand out of similar materials. On a shelf over the rusty stove stood a few battered pots and pans; evidently the entire kitchen equipment. There were two doors, one by which she had entered; the other, leading supposedly into another room. The one window was small and low. Even in this light she could see that a spider had spun a huge web across it. In the dark corners of the room all sorts of objects seemed to be piled without any pretense of order. She lowered the lamp and listened. Yes, she could still hear the pump. With a furtive, guilty air she hurried to complete her examination before he should surprise her. One of the corners contained a battered suitcase and a nondescript pile of old clothes, the other was piled high with yellowing copies of what she saw was the Winnipeg _Free Press_ and a few old magazines. "The library!" she said bitterly, and was surprised to find that she had spoken aloud. Insane people did that, she had heard. Was she----? She ran over to a shelf that had escaped her notice, and the ill-fitting lamp chimney rattled as she moved. It was stacked high with the same empty syrup cans that at Gertie's did the duty of flower-pots. But these held flour, now quite mouldy, and various other staple supplies all spoiled and useless. She started to say "the larder," but, remembering in time, put her hand over her lips that she might only think it. And now she had come to that other door. She must see what was there. "Having a look at the shack?" She gave a stifled scream and for a moment turned so pale that he hastily set down his pail and went over to her. "I guess you're all tuckered out," he said kindly. "No wonder. You've had quite a little excitement the last day or two." With a tremendous effort, Nora recovered her self-control. She walked steadily over to one of the packing-box stools and sat down. "It was silly of me, but you don't know how you startled me. Don't think I usually have nerves, but--but the place was strange last night and I didn't sleep very well." "Do you mind if I open the door a moment?" she asked after a short pause. "It isn't really cold and it looks so beautiful outside. One can't see anything out of the window, you know, it's so cobwebby. I must clean it--to-morrow." Try as she would, her voice faltered on the last word.