Alice was cutting and pinning and basting seams at the other end of
the table. Sarah Gurridge was standing beside the open window watching
the rising of the storm.

Conversation came spasmodically. The girls were intent upon their
work.

"It's all very well to have new dresses," said Prudence, with an
impatient tug at the material on which the machine was operating,
"but I'm afraid half the pleasure of them is absorbed by the process
of 'making.' Oh, these endless seams! And I don't believe a single one
of them is straight. I feel quite hopeless."

"Cheer up, Prue," said Alice, without looking up. She herself was
endeavouring to set a wristband pattern upon a piece of stuff so that
she could get the two bands out of barely enough cloth for one. "You
should use more dash when working a machine. When you are turning it,
imagine you are driving a 'through mail' to the coast and have to make
up time. The seams will come all right."

"Yes; and break cotton and needles, and--and land the engine over the
side of a cut-bank, or run down a gang of plate-layers or something.
There now, I've run clean off the cloth. I wish you wouldn't talk so
much."

The two girls laughed whilst they joined efforts in righting the
catastrophe.

"Isn't it getting dark?" said Alice, when Prudence had once more
settled to work.

Sarah spoke without turning from the window.

"The storm's banking, child. The lightning is already flashing over
Owl Hoot way. Hervey will only just escape it."

"What did he want to go over to the ranch for?" asked Prudence. "He
never seems to go anywhere else now. I should think Mr. Iredale will
get sick of having him always round."

"My dear," observed Sarah, with unction, "when two men enjoy
destroying the harmless life which the good God has set upon the
prairie, they never tire of one another's society. Men who would
disdain to black a pair of boots would not hesitate to crawl about in
the mud and damp reeds of a swamp at daybreak to slaughter a few
innocent ducks. There is a bond amongst sportsmen which is stronger
than all the vows made at any altar. Hervey's delight in destroying
life is almost inhuman. I trust he never shoots sitting game."

"I should hope not," said Prudence. "I would never own him as a
brother if he did. Hello, Neche," as the door was pushed slowly open
and the great husky limped heavily into the room. The animal looked
round him in a dignified, unblinking way, and then came over