"Housekeeper wanted by a farmer; must be sober and steady. Good wages to the right person. Apply to George Shaw, Millford, Man."
He read it over reflectively. "There ought to be someone for me," he said. "I am not hard to please. Any good, steady old lady who will give me a bite to eat, not swear at me or wear my clothes or drink while on duty will answer my purpose."
Two days after his advertisement had appeared in the Brandon Times, "she" arrived.
Shaw saw a smart-looking woman gaily tripping along the road, and his heart failed.
As she drew near, however, he was relieved to find that her hair was snowy white.
"Good evening, Mr. Shaw!" she called to him as soon as she was within speaking distance.
"Good evening, madam," he replied, lifting his hat.
"I just asked along the road until I found you," she said, untying her bonnet strings; "I knew this lonesome little house must be the place. No trees, no flowers, no curtains, no washing on the line—I could tell there was no woman around." She was fixing her hair at his little glass as she spoke. "Now, son, run out and get a few chips for the fire, and we'll have a bite of supper in a few minutes."
Shaw brought the chips.
"Now, what do you say to pancakes for supper?"