All eyes turned upon Mr. Farnshaw, who had not as yet expressed himself on either side. These neighbours had asked to assemble in his house because his kitchen afforded more room than any other house in the vicinity, the kitchen being a large room with no beds in it to take up floor space. Mrs. Farnshaw realized as soon as the question was asked that her joy had been premature. Josiah Farnshaw sat with his chair tilted back on two legs against the wall, snapping the blade of his pocket knife back and forth as he considered what he was going to say in reply. He felt all eyes turned in his direction and quite enjoyed the suspense. Mr. Farnshaw was an artist in calculating the suspense of others. He gave them plenty of time to get their perspective before he replied. At last he shut the blade of the knife down ostentatiously, replaced it in his trousers' pocket, and announced slowly: "Well, sir, as for me and mine, I think we'll stay right here." Mrs. Farnshaw gave a despairing, "Oh!" and covered her face with her hands to strangle back her tears. Her one hope had been that poverty would accomplish what the flax had failed to do. "Why--I thought you said there'd be nothin' t' feed an' you'd have t'," said a man whose shaggy whiskers had not seen a comb that year. "What'll you do? You can't see things starve!" "I thought you was strong for goin'. What'll you do with all your stock?" another said, and all bent forward and waited for his answer as if he could find a way out of the tangle for them. "That's just it." Again he paused, enjoying the suspense that his silence created. Mr. Farnshaw was not popular, but he had more stock than all his simple neighbours put together and was conscious that money, or its equivalent, had weight. "That's just it," he repeated to add emphasis to his opinion. "What is a man to do? You folks that have nothin' but your teams an' wagons can load th' family in an' get away. How'd I feel 'bout th' time that I got t' th' Missouri River if I knowed all them hogs an' cattle was layin' around here too weak t' get up cause they hadn't been fed?" He dropped his argument into the midst of them and then sat back and enjoyed its effect. He had intended to go till ten minutes previous. The argument sounded good to him now, however. It put him on a higher basis with himself, in spite of the fact that it had only popped into his head while he was clicking his knife blade. He conceived a new liking for himself. "No, sir," he continued; "I'll stay by it." "I don't see as your stayin' helps anything if you ain't got nothin' t' feed," was the reiterated objection.