"We shall be very glad to have her any time," was the response, "and you must not leave her here alone. Not that there's anything to fear, but it's lonesome."

"I look out for that," and father nodded, drawing me closer to his knee and tightening his arm about me. We did love each other dearly, but people in that day were not effusive. There was so much work to do in the new countries that affection ran more to deeds than words or caresses.

A few days after I had my grand, glad surprise—a letter from Norman. From Detroit they had gone up to Marquette on Lake Superior, where there was a great deal of business to straighten out and claims to adjust. The world was wonderful and splendid. One hardly had any idea of it in Chicago, and Mr. Le Moyne was proving one of the most generous and charming of friends. Norman was learning French. It was almost universally used up there, and Mr. Le Moyne was a great reader of French literature and knew pages of it by heart. "I wish you could study it, too," he wrote, and then he gave me places to trace out on the map where they had been; and there was the great Lake Superior and the Indian countries, the most elegant furs one could imagine, and a variety of strange and beautiful animals. The trading stations and the small towns were so picturesque, the people curious indeed. Altogether it sometimes seemed like a dream to him, and he could not put half the wonderful things in a letter. They were to return to Detroit and I was to send a letter there and tell him all about myself, and if I missed him very much, if I took the old walks and read the old poems over, and what I was learning.

At that period mails were slow and uncertain, and letters were often sent by friends. An appeal had been made to the general government, and Mr. Hogan was postmaster, combining it with some other businesses. The little old place was quite a rendezvous on mail day, though no one was ever certain of that even. A row of old boots nailed up for mail boxes created much amusement. But mere friendship letters were a rarity. Indeed, writing a letter was considered a great feat. If one heard from friends once a year it brought content. Postage was very high, and in new countries money was scarce.

I labored over my letter, writing it first on various scraps of paper, as I could think of things I wanted to say. Books are written nowadays with more ease.

CHAPTER VIII
WITHOUT NORMAN

It seemed suddenly as if Chicago took a great leap. Perhaps the whole country was more prosperous. But everybody was full of business, and immigrants were pouring in at the rate of ten a day, the newspaper announced. They were of all kinds. Some from Virginia, many from the two States south of us, hardy people with an uncouth dialect and new ways that were more or less picturesque. The men had been great hunters and could hardly adapt themselves to any employment at first. The women were used to all kinds of household work. They hetcheled flax and it was very entertaining to me to see the mass swept across the sharp wires and the person drawing her body back with a monotonous croon, then starting forward again. The soft silvery stuff was laid in a pile by itself, and how beautiful it looked. The rough and coarse strands were for common uses.

I could spin quite well now, but I used to love to watch these other spinners with their deft motions. The big wheel fairly fascinated me, and the nimble running back and forth. The great dye tubs, too, with their yellows and browns, blues, and reds and the long hanks of yarn hung out in the sun, dipped over and over to darken them until they made some really handsome shades.

Besides these people there came quite a colony of French in our neighborhood. I was glad of this, though it seemed as if their "jabber" was too intricate to be taken up by any native tongue. Their attire was much more picturesque than that of the Kentucky women, and they disported themselves in brighter colors. A short skirt, a bodice laced up both front and back, and above this a white body with sleeves, the neck drawn in with a ruffle and tied with a bright ribbon. White stockings and low shoes with a great buckle, though some of the older people had these laid by as mementoes of their younger days. The church was at quite a distance and a priest came over and held service in the morning for them in a little log house. I used to love to watch them going to and fro with prayer book and rosary and happy, smiling faces, always chattering.

There were Germans, too. We seemed fair to be a conglomerate town. All along the lake, houses were stretching up north and down to the southern end. The shipyard was a scene of activity; indeed, most people were very busy. Wheat fields and cornfields increased and cattle were multiplying. Everything rushed through the summer; indeed, it seemed as though one could see the corn grow; and was there ever a prettier sight than when it tasselled out and blossomed in the soft yellow. It was like a great army. I used to look at it sometimes until I could believe it was a giant host advancing, and I would shrink back in fright.