Mandy, "for your wee house. We have a friend
with us--Dr. Martin."

"Dr. Martin? Indeed I know him well, and a fine man he is and that kind
and clever. I'll get him too."

"Let me go for them," said Mandy.

"Very well, go then. I'll just hurry the dinner."

"But are you quite sure," asked Mandy, "you can--you have everything
handy? You know, Mrs. Macintyre, I know just how hard it is to keep a
stock of everything on hand."

"Well, we have bread and molasses--our butter is run out, it is hard to
get--and some bacon and potatoes and tea. Will that do?"

"Oh, that will do fine. And we have some things with us, if you don't
mind."

"Mind? Not a bit, my dear. You can just suit yourself."

The dinner was a glorious success. The clean linen, the shining dishes,
the silver--for Mrs. Macintyre brought out her wedding presents--gave
the table a brilliantly festive appearance in the eyes of those who had
lived for some years in the western country.

"You don't appreciate the true significance of a table napkin, I venture
to say, Miss Cameron," said the doctor, "until you have lived a year in
this country at least, or how much an unspotted table cloth means, or
shining cutlery and crockery."

"Well, I have been two days at the Royal Hotel, whatever," replied
Moira.

"The Royal Hotel!" exclaimed the doctor aghast. "Our most palatial
Western hostelry--all the comforts and conveniences of civilization!"

"Anyway, I like this better," said Moira. "It is like home."

"Is it, indeed, my dear?" said the minister's wife greatly delighted.
"You have paid me a very fine tribute."

The hour lengthened into two, for when a departure was suggested the
doctor grew eloquent in urging delay. The horses would be all the better
for the rest. It would be fine driving in the evening. They could easily
make the Black Dog Ford before dark. After that the trail was good for
twenty miles, where they would camp. But like all happy hours these
hours fled past, and all too swiftly, and soon the travelers were ready
to depart.

Before the Stopping Place door Hell was holding down the bronchos, while
Cameron was packing in the valises and making all secure again. Near the
wagon stood the doctor waiting their departure.

"You are going back from here, Dr. Martin?" said Moira.

"Yes," said the doctor, "I am going back."

"It has been good to see you," she said. "I hope next time you will know
me."

"Ah, now, Miss Cameron, don't rub it i