him in his
fellowship with men, that the excuse was a true one, yet that Osmond was
glad he had it to offer. He evidently had no desire to shake hands. That
seemed reasonable enough. The man was quite unlike other men in his
unstudied speech, the clear, healthy, and yet childlike look of his
eyes. It was as if, working in the earth, he had become a part of it.
When they were in the shade of the great oak tree by the house, each in
his rough chair, MacLeod stretched out his legs, with much enjoyment,
and offered his host a cigar.

"No, thank you," said Osmond. He felt briefly, and was ashamed of
himself for entertaining it, a childish regret that he did not smoke.
Every easy habit gave the man of the world an advantage the more. "Light
up," he said grimly, as MacLeod, after a questioning look which seemed
also a commiserating one, was about to return the case to his pocket. "I
like to see it--and smell it--rather."

So MacLeod brought out his pipe and did light up.

"I smoke very little," he explained. "That's the way to skim the cream.
It's the temperate man for flavors. Know that?"

Osmond, temperate in all ways from necessity, hardly knew how he should
have felt about it if desires and delight had presented themselves to
him as companions, not as foes. He pulled himself up, with an effort.
MacLeod's effect on him was something for which he was not prepared. The
man's physical fitness, his self-possession in the face of anything that
might be required of him, made hot blood in Osmond. There was no ground
for them to meet upon. Temperance of life in order to enjoy the more
keenly? Then, to be honest, he would have to confess that for him
temperance was his master, and that was a confidence he would not give.
There could be no easy commonplaces. He spoke bluntly:--

"I wanted to see you."

"I wanted to see you, too," said MacLeod cordially. "Of course I know
all about you. Peter talks about you by the yard."

Osmond's rebellious tongue formed the words, "I don't believe it." But
he did not utter them.

"You've worked out a mighty interesting scheme down here," MacLeod
continued, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking about him.

"We have worked," said Osmond.

"It's like the older peasant life of Europe." MacLeod spoke rather at
random, seeking about for some thoroughfare with his crusty host. "A
sort of paternal government--"

"Not in the least," said Osmond. "My men are my neighbors. They work for