And Winthrop, through the long winter, had taken care of the cattle and dressed the flax in the same spirit with which he shut his bedroom door that night; a little calmer, not a whit the less strong.
He filled father's and brother's place -- his mother knew how well.

Sam Doolittle knew, for he declared "there wa'n't a stake in the fences that wa'n't looked after, as smart as if the old chap was to hum." The grain was threshed as duly as ever, though a boy of sixteen had to stand in the shoes of a man of forty.

Perhaps Sam and Anderese wrought better than their wont, in shame or in admiration.

Karen never had so good a woodpile, Mrs.Landholm's meal bags were never better looked after; and little Winifred and Asahel never wanted their rides in the snow, nor had more nuts cracked o' nights; though they had only one tired brother at home instead of two fresh ones.
Truth to tell, however, one ride from Winthrop would at any time content them better than two rides from Will.

Winthrop never allowed that he was tired, and never seemed so; but his mother and Karen were resolved that tired he must be.
"He had pretty strength to begin with," Karen said; "that was a good thing; and he seemed to keep it up too; he was shootin' over everything." If Winthrop kept his old plans of self-aggrandizement, it was at the bottom of his heart; he looked and acted nothing but the farmer, all those months.