ite robe that clung very daintily about her and then towards her
companions in the tennis field. Her apparel had cost many dollars in
Montreal, and there was a joyous irresponsibility in the faces of those
she watched.

"It is a little unequal, isn't it, aunt?" she said. "One feels
inclined to wonder what we have done that we should have exemption from
the charge laid upon the first tiller of the soil that we, and the men
who are plodding through the dust there, are descended from."

Miss Barrington laughed a little as she glanced with a nod of
comprehension at the distant toilers, and more gravely towards the net.
Merry voices came up to her through the shadows of the trees as English
lad and English maiden, lissom and picturesque in many-hued jackets and
light dresses, flitted across the little square of velvet green. The
men had followed the harrow and seeder a while that morning. Some of
them, indeed, had for a few hours driven a team, and then left the rest
to the hired hands, for the stress and sweat of effort that was to turn
the wilderness into a granary was not for such as they.

"Don't you think it is all made up to those others?" she asked.

"In one sense--yes," said the girl. "Of course, one can see that all
effort must have its idealistic aspect, and there may be men who find
their compensation in the thrill of the fight, and the knowledge of
work well done when they rest at night. Still, I fancy most of them
only toil to eat, and their views are not revealed to us. We are, you
see, women--and we live at Silverdale."

Her aunt smiled again. "How long is it since the plow crossed the Red
River, and what is Manitoba now? How did those mile furrows come
there, and who drove the road that takes the wheat out through the
granite of the Superior shore? It was more than their appetites that
impelled those men, my dear. Still, it is scarcely wise to expect too
much when one meets them, for though one could feel it is presumptuous
to forgive its deficiencies, the Berserk type of manhood is not
conspicuous for its refinement."

For no apparent reason Maud Barrington evaded her aunt's gaze. "You,"
she said dryly, "have forgiven one of that type a good deal already,
but, at least, we have never seen him when the fit was upon him."

Miss Barrington laughed. "Still, I have no doubt that, sooner or
later, you will enjoy the spectacle."

Just then, a light wagon came up behind them, and when one of the