"I knows the's no call for th' worry," she answered, "but someways I has a forebodin' o' somethin' evil t' happen an' I can't shake un off. I can't tell what an be. Mayhap 'tis th' maid. She's no better, an' th' Lard's not answerin' my prayer yet t' give back strength t' she an' make she walk."
"'Twill be all right wi' th' maid, now. Th' doctor said they'd be makin' she well at th' hospital."
"But the's no money t' send she t' th' hospital—an' if she don't go—th' doctor said she'd never be gettin' well."
"Now don't be lettin' that worry ye, Mary. Th' Lard'll be findin' a way t' send she t' St. Johns when th' mail boat comes back in th' spring, if that be His way o' curin she—I knows He will. Th' Lard always does things right an' He'll be fixin' it right for th' maid. He'd not be lettin' a pretty maid like Emily go all her life wi'out walkin'—He never would do that. I'm thinkin' He'd a' found a way afore now if th' mail boat had been makin' another trip before th' freeze up."
"I'm lackin' in faith, I'm fearin'. I'm always forgettin' that th' Lard does what's best for us an' don't always do un th' way we wants He to. He's bidin' His own time I'm thinkin', an' answerin' my prayers th' way as is best."
This talk with Douglas made her feel better, but still there was that burden on her heart—a burden that would not be shaken off.
All the Bay was frozen now, and white, like the rest of the world, with drifted snow. The great box stove in the cabin was kept well filled with wood night and day to keep out the searching cold. An inch-thick coat of frost covered the inner side of the glass panes of the two windows and shut out the morning sunbeams that used to steal across the floor to brighten the little room. December was fast drawing to a close.
Richard Gray's luck had changed. Fur was plentiful—more plentiful than it had been for years—and he was hopeful that by spring he would have enough to pay all his back debt at the company store and be on his feet again. Two days before Christmas he reached home in high good humour, with the pelts he had caught, and displayed them with satisfaction to Mrs. Gray and Emily—beautiful black otters, martens, minks and beavers with a few lynx and a couple of red foxes.
"I'll be stayin' home for a fortnight t' get some more wood cut," he announced. "How'll that suit th' maid?"
"Oh! Tis fine!" cried the child, clapping her hands with delight. "An' Bob'll be home for the New Year an' we'll all be havin' a fine time together before you an' Bob goes away again."