Again it was like some half-waking vision—the feeble light of the candle losing itself upon the broad high walls of new hay; the huge shadows in the rafters overhead; the women-folk silently moving about, fixing up on the barn floor some pitiful imitation, poor souls, of the home that had been swept off the face of the earth, and outside, through the wide sprawling doors, the dying away effulgence of the embers of our roof-tree lingering in the air of the winter night. Abner Beech came in presently, with the gun in one hand, and a blackened and outlandish-looking object in the other, which turned out to be the big pink sea-shell that used to decorate the parlor mantel. He held it up for M'rye to see, with a grave, tired smile on his face. “We got it out, after all—just by the skin of our teeth,” he said, and Hurley, behind him, confirmed this by an eloquent grimace. M'rye's black eyes snapped and sparkled as she lifted the candle and saw what this something was. Then she boldly put up her face and kissed her husband with a resounding smack. Truly it was a night of surprises. “That's about the only thing I had to call my own when I was married,” she offered in explanation of her fervor, speaking to the company at large. Then she added in a lower tone, to Esther: “_He_ used to play with it for hours at a stretch—when he was a baby.” “'Member how he used to hold it up to his ear, eh, mother?” asked Abner, softly. M'rye nodded her head, and then put her apron up to her eyes for a brief moment. When she lowered it, we saw an unaccustomed smile mellowing her hard-set, swarthy face. The candle light flashed upon a tear on her cheek that the apron had missed. “I guess I _do_ remember!” she said, with a voice full of tenderness. Then Esther's hand stole into M'rye's and the two women stood together before Abner, erect and with beaming countenances, and he smiled upon them both. It seemed that we were all much happier in our minds, now that our house had been burned down over our heads. CHAPTER XI THE CONQUEST OF ABNER Some time during the night, I was awakened by the mice frisking through the hay about my ears. My head was aching again, and I could not get back into sleep. Besides, Hurley was snoring mercilessly. We two had chosen for our resting-place the little mow of half a load or so, which had not been stowed away above, but lay ready for present use over by the side-door opening on the cow-yard. Temporary beds had been spread for the women with fresh straw and blankets at the further end of the central threshing-floor. Abner himself had taken one of the rescued ticks and a quilt over to the other end, and stretched his ponderous length out across the big doors, with the gun by his side. No one had, of course, dreamed of undressing.