I like best."

"I do."

The mother set the scones on the table and glanced over it with
approving eyes. The girl's protest came swiftly but playfully.

"Be quiet, you mother dear," she cried, her ready blushes mounting
again. "Don't you dare to say--things. I----"

The mother only smiled the more deeply.

"Best go and round Alec up. Supper's ready."

But the girl hesitated.

"He's at the barns fixing his outfit with Keewin," she said. "He
reckons to break trail in a few days. Say, Murray's gone across to
Father Jose with them. Will I get him, too?" Then she added
thoughtfully, "Do you know, mother, I don't think Murray's glad to see
John Kars. He's sort of quiet with him around. I don't know. I don't
reckon he likes him. I wonder why?"

The mother's eyes searched her daughter's face. Her smile must have
been full of meaning for any one less simple than the girl before her.

"There's no accounting the way men feel for each other," she said at
last. "Maybe Murray guesses John Kars is butting into our trade.
Maybe he's anxious to keep the country to ourselves. You see, these
folks aren't traders, and we are."

The girl became indignant at once.

"But he's no right to feel that way," she cried. "The country's free.
It's big enough for us all. Besides, if John Kars isn't a trader,
where's the trouble? I think Murray's mean. That's all."

The mother shook her head.

"Best go and call the men-folk," she said, in her direct fashion.
"Murray can see to his likes and dislikes the same as he can see to
most things he's set on." Then she smiled. "Anyway, I don't suppose
it figgers any with you around. John Kars isn't likely to suffer from
it."

Just for one instant the girl's eyes answered the mother's gentle
challenge. Then she went off firing her parting shot over her shoulder
as she vanished through the doorway.

"I've always thought Murray mean--for--for all his fat smile. I--just
hate meanness."

Ailsa Mowbray was startled. Nothing could have startled her more. In
all the years of their association with Murray she had never before
heard so direct an expression of dislike from either of her children.
It troubled her. She had not been blind to Alec's feelings. Ever
since the boy had grown to manhood she had known there had been
antagonism between them. She was never likely to forget the scene on
the night her husband's appeal for help reached her. But Jessie.

She was disquiet