out red in face when he understood and never stopped until
he jumped into his motor. I don't think Geoffrey's wife has forgiven
you."

Prescott smiled.

"Well," he said, "I must have grown very staid since then."

Muriel changed the subject, but they talked with much good-humor until
they reached the homestead, where the man alighted and held out his arms
to her. She hesitated a moment, and then was seized by him and swung
gently to the ground, but she left him with a trace of heightened color
in her face and went quietly into the house.

CHAPTER IV

MURIEL FEELS REGRET

It was pleasantly cool in the shadow of Jernyngham's wooden barn, where
Prescott sat, talking to its owner. Outside the strip of shade, the sun
fell hot upon the parched grass, and the tall wheat that ran close up to
the homestead swayed in waves of changing color before the rush of
breeze. The whitened, weather-worn boards of the house, which faced the
men, seemed steeped in glowing light, and sounds of confused activity
issued from the doorway that was guarded by mosquito-netting. A clatter
of domestic utensils indicated that Ellice was baking, and she made more
noise than she usually did when she was out of temper. Jernyngham
listened with faint amusement as he filled his pipe.

"Sorry I can't ask you in, Jack," he said. "The kitchen is a pretty large
one, but when Ellice starts bread-making, there isn't a spot one can sit
down in. Of course, we've another living-room--I furnished it rather
nicely--but for some reason we seldom use it."

The mosquito door swung back with a crash and Ellice appeared in the
entrance with a hot, angry face, and hands smeared with dough, her hair
hanging partly loose in disorder about her neck, her skirt ungracefully
kilted up.

"Ain't you goin' to bring that water? Have I got to wait another hour?"
she cried, ignoring Prescott.

Jernyngham rose and moved away. Returning, he disappeared into the
kitchen with a dripping pail and Ellice's voice was raised in harsh
upbraiding. Then the man came out, looking a trifle weary, though he sat
down by Prescott with a smile.

"These things should be a warning, Jack," he said. "Still, one has to
make allowances; this hot weather's trying, and Ellice got a letter that
disturbed her by the last mail. I didn't hear what was in it, but I
suspect it was a bill."

Prescott nodded, because he did not know what to say. Mrs. Jernyngham
had, he gathered, been unusually