CHAPTER IV.
A Night of Rough Work "Phil, where is Katherine ?" asked Mrs.Burton, coming out of her father's room about half an hour after the two had started to bring home the stores.
"She has gone to help Miles to do some work outside, though what it can be I'm sure I don't know," grumbled Phil, who was sleepy and wanted to get to bed.

He had washed the supper things after a fashion, had cleared up the kitchen for the night, according to his own ideas of tidiness, and now was sitting in the rocking-chair by the stove, trying very hard to keep his eyes open.
"Oh dear, how unwise of her!" exclaimed Mrs.Burton in a plaintive tone.

"I am always so afraid for her to go outside at night when it is freezing so sharply, for her face would be quite spoiled if she were to get it frostbitten, and she is so pretty." "Is she ?" Phil's voice had a drowsy drawl, as if the subject of Katherine's looks had very little interest for him, as indeed it had.

But an unexpected lurch of the chair, coming at that moment, landed him in a squirming heap on the floor.
"Oh, Phil, I am so sorry that I upset you, dear, but I had to catch at the chair to save myself from falling over the broom! What made you leave it lying on the floor ?" asked Mrs.Burton, who had been the innocent cause of his collapse.
Phil rose to his feet and dusted the ashes from the sleeve of his jacket with a rueful air.

"Did I leave the broom there?
Oh, I suppose I forgot it! I remember I had it to sweep up the fireplace, because I could not find a brush." "There is the brush hanging close to the stove," remarked Mrs.
Burton.