He brushed by her and went on out to the rig, returning almost instantly with an arm full of parcels.
"We could all do with a cup of tea. Just have a look at the stove. It won't take two shakes to light a fire."
"It seems hardly worth while; it's so late."
"Oh, light the fire, my girl, and don't talk about it," he said good-humoredly.
On her knees before the stove, with her face as flushed as if it were already glowing, Nora raked away at the ashes. Through the open doorway she could see her husband and Mr. Sharp unfasten the trunk from the back of the wagon and start with it toward the house.
"This trunk of yours ain't what you might call light, Mrs. Taylor," said Sharp good-naturedly as he stepped over the threshold.
"You see it holds everything I own in the world," said Nora lightly.
"I guess it don't do that," laughed her husband. "Since this morning, you own a half share in a hundred and sixty acres of as good land as there is in the Province of Manitoba, and a mighty good shack, if I did build it all myself."
"To say nothing of a husband," retorted Nora.
"Where do you want it put?" asked Sharp.