e said nothing, and Prudence went
on.

"He's coming out this way on business shortly, and will call over here
if possible. But he can't stay. Says he's making money now, and is
writing to Al and giving her all particulars. I _am_ sorry he can't
come."

"Well, well; maybe it's for the best," said her mother, in a
consolatory manner. "Seemingly his coming would only 'a caused
bickerings with Hervey, and, good-sakes, we get enough of that now.
I'm not one for underhand dealings, but I'm thinking it would be for
the best not to say anything to your brother about his coming at all.
If he asks, just say he can't come to stop. I'd sooner keep Hervey
under my eye. If he goes off, as he said, you never know what mischief
he'll be getting up to. He just goes into Winnipeg and gets around
with them scallywags, and--and you never know. I have heard
tell--though he never lets on--as he's too fond o' poker. Leastways, I
do know as he spends more money than is good for him. Sarah and me was
talking only the other day. Sarah's pretty 'cute, and she declares
that he's got gaming writ in his lines. Maybe it's so. I'll not
dispute. He won't have no excuse for leaving now." And she sighed
heavily and took up the vegetables from the stove.

Alice returned, and the sound of wheels outside told the farm-wife
that the buckboard was ready for the men's dinner.

The two girls and the old lady portioned out the food into the great
canteens, and Andy lifted them on to the buckboard. Then the choreman
drove away.

By the time the farm dinner was ready Alice had quite got over her
disappointment. Prudence had told her the contents of the letter, and
also her mother's wishes on the subject. Alice was naturally too
cheerful to think much of the matter; besides, she was glad that
Robb's business was improving.

Hervey came up from the fields in Andy's buckboard. He always came
home for his dinner, and to-day he brought an atmosphere of unwonted
cheerfulness with him. He had spent much thought and consideration
upon his relations with George Iredale, and the result of his
reflections was displayed in his manner when he returned from the
fields. Never in his life had he held such a handful of trumps. His
hand needed little playing, and the chances of a cross ruff looked to
him remote.

After the meal he went out to the barn, where he smoked for awhile in
pensive solitude. He thought long and earnestly, and was so absorbed
that he looked up wit