here.' We're
not in the highest degree intellectual; we're not as a rule worshipers
of beauty--that's made obvious by the prairie towns--and to be thought
poetical makes us shy. In fact, our artistic taste is strongly
defective."

"If these are virtues, they're strictly negative ones," Flora pointed
out.

"I'm clearing the ground," said Edgar. "Where we shine is in making
the most of material things, turning, for example, these wilds into
wheatfields, holding on through your Arctic cold and blazing summer
heat. We begin with a tent and an ox-team, and end, in spite of
countless obstacles, with a big brick homestead and a railroad or an
automobile. Men of the Lansing type follow the same course
consistently, even when their interests are not concerned. Once get an
idea into their minds, convince them that it's right, and they'll
transform it into determined action. If they haven't tools, they'll
make them or find something that will serve; effort counts for nothing;
the purpose will be carried out."

Flora noticed the enthusiastic appreciation of his comrade which his
somewhat humorous speech revealed, and she thought it justified.

"One would imagine Mr. Lansing to be resolute," she said. "I dare say
it's fortunate; he had a heavy loss to face last year."

"Yes," returned Edgar. "As you see, he's going on; though he never
expected anything for himself."

"He never expected anything?" Flora repeated incredulously. "What are
you saying?"

Edgar realized that he had been injudicious. Flora did not know that
Sylvia Marston was still the owner of the farm and he hesitated to
enlighten her.

"Well," he said, "George isn't greedy; it isn't in his nature."

"Do you mean that he's a rich man and is merely farming for amusement?"

"Oh, no," said Edgar; "far from it!" He indicated the miry wagons and
the torn-up trails. "You wouldn't expect a man to do this kind of
thing, if it wasn't needful. The fact is, I don't always express
myself very happily; and George has told me that I talk too much."

Flora smiled and drove away shortly afterward, considering what he had
said. She had noticed a trace of confusion in his manner and it struck
her as significant.

When the buggy had grown small in the distance, Edgar called to
Grierson and they went on again.

CHAPTER XXIV

GEORGE FEELS GRATEFUL

When George returned from Winnipeg, Edgar took him to the granary.

"You may as well look at the seed