Farewell, sweet childhood's happy home, We're going out four weary mile, We've gone to seek another home And may not see you for a while. But every inch of thee is dear, And every stick in thy woodpile. Each mark upon thy wall is linked With deepest meaning and with love, See where young Bugsey spilled the ink, Caused by his youngest brother's shove. See where wee Danny picked a hole-- He knew no better tho', I guess. The patch that covers it from sight Is made of Pearlie's winsey dress. All through the dreary winter time Thou sheltered us from cold so bleak Thou sheltered us from wind and rain, Save where thy kitchen roof did leak. When strangers come to live in thee, And fill thy halls with noise and shout, Still think, dear house, of those who once Did from thy gates go in and out." "It's just grand," her father said admiringly, "and it's true, too. I don't know where you get the things you think of." The road lay along the bank of the Souris, which still ran high with the spring floods. The spring came early in Manitoba that year, and already the cattle were foraging through the pastures to be ready for the first blade of grass that appeared. The April sun flooded the bare landscape with its light and heat. From the farm-yards they passed came the merry cackle of hens. Horses and colts galloped gaily around the corrals, and the yellow meadow larks on the fence-posts rang out their glad challenge. The poplar trees along the road were blushing with the green of spring, and up from the river-flats, gray-purple with scrub oak and willow, came the indescribably sweet spring smell. At the corner of Thomas Perkins's farm they turned straight north, following the river. "There's our farm, Pearlie," her father said. What Pearl saw was one long field of old stubble, gray and faded, cut out of the scrub, and at the end of the field, against a grove of poplars, stood a little house, so sad, so battered, so broken, that Pearl's stout heart almost sank. It was made of logs and plastered with mud, and had settled down on one side, looking as ungainly and tired as an old horse when he rests on one leg. There was a door in the side next the road, with one window at each side of it--windows with almost everything in them except glass. Pearl jumped down from the waggon and ran around her new home trying to find something good about it. When her father came in after tying up his horses, he found her almost in tears.