ittle talk."

She smiled bravely up at him through misty eyes and shook her head.
She read his thoughts far better than he knew.

Father and son repaired to the private office at the mill, and The
Laird seated himself in his old swivel chair.

"Now then, lad," he demanded, "have I been a good sport?"

"You have, indeed, father! I'm grateful to you."

"You needn't be. I wouldn't have missed that funeral for considerable.
That girl can sing like an angel, and, man, the courage of her! 'Twas
sweet of her, singing to old Caleb like that, but I much mistake if
she won't be talked about for it. 'Twill be said she's heartless." He
handed his son a cigar and snipped the end off one for himself. "We'll
be needing the Sawdust Pile now for a drying-yard," he announced
complacently.

"You mean----"

"I mean, my son, that you're dreaming of the impossible, and that it's
time for you to wake up. I want no row about it. I can't bear to hear
your mother and sisters carrying on longer. I'll never get over
thinking what a pity it is that girl is damaged goods. She must not be
wife to son of mine."

The young laird of Tyee bowed his head.

"I can't give her up, father," he murmured. "By God, I can't!"

"There can be no happiness without honor, and you'll not be the first
to make our name a jest in the mouths of Port Agnew. You will write
her and tell her of my decision; if you do not wish to, then I shall
do it for you. Trust her to understand and not hold it against you.
And it is my wish that you should not see her again. She must be cared
for, but when that time comes, I shall attend to it; you know me well
enough to realize I'll do that well." He laid his hand tenderly on the
young man's shoulder. "This is your first love, my son. Time and hard
work will help you forget--and I'll wait for my grandson."

"And if I should not agree to this--what?"

"Obey me for a month--and then ask me that question if you will.
I'm--I'm a bit unprepared for an answer on such short notice."

Donald bowed his head.

"Very well, sir. I'll think it over for a month--on one condition."

"Thank you, my son," said The Laird of Tyee. "And what is the
condition?"

"Let mother and the girls go to Seattle or Honolulu or Shanghai or
some other seaport--anywhere, provided they're not at The Dreamerie
when I return to Port Agnew. I'm going to spend that damnable month in
the woods, week-ends and all, and wrestle with this problem."

Old Hector