There were signs of the gale, but its record
was written in fallen tree trunks, broken branches, a
litter of twigs--not in drifts of snow. My wife would
not surmise what I had gone through.
She came out with a smile on her face when I pulled in
on the yard. It was characteristic of her that she did
not ask why I came so late; she accepted the fact as
something for which there were no doubt compelling reasons.
"I was giving our girl a bath," she said; "she cannot
come." And then she looked wistfully at my face and at
the horses. Silently I slipped the harness off their
backs. I used to let them have their freedom for a while
on reaching home. And never yet but Peter at least had
had a kick and a caper and a roll before they sought
their mangers. To-day they stood for a moment knock-kneed,
without moving, then shook themselves in a weak,
half-hearted way and went with drooping heads and weary
limbs straight to the stable.
"You had a hard trip?" asked my wife; and I replied with
as much cheer as I could muster, "I have seen sights
to-day that I did not expect to see before my dying day."
And taking her arm, I looked at the westering sun and
turned towards the house.
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