e was no doubt about the latter point, for the small Western farmer
has very seldom a balance in hand, and, for that matter, is not
infrequently in debt to the nearest storekeeper. He must, as a rule,
secure a harvest or abandon his holding, since, as soon as the crop is
thrashed, the bills pour in. Wyllard made a sign of assent.

"Well," said Hawtrey, "if you're going to England you could go as my
deputy. You could make Agatha understand what things are like here,
and bring her out to me. I'll arrange for the wedding to be soon as
she arrives."

His comrade was not a conventional person, but he pointed out several
objections. Hawtrey over-ruled them, however, and eventually Wyllard
reluctantly assented.

"As it happens, Mrs. Hastings is going over, too, and if she comes back
about the same time the thing might be managed," he said. "I believe
she's in Winnipeg just now, but I'll write her. By the way, have you a
photograph of Agatha?"

"I haven't," said Hawtrey. "She gave me one, but somehow it got
mislaid one house-cleaning. That's rather an admission, isn't it?"

It certainly occurred to Wyllard that it was. In fact, it struck him
as a very curious thing that Hawtrey should have lost the picture which
the girl he was in love with had given him. He sat silent for a moment
or two, and then stood up.

"When I hear from Mrs. Hastings I'll drive round again. Candidly, the
thing has somewhat astonished me. I always had a fancy it would be
Sally."

Hawtrey laughed. "Sally?" he said. "We're first-rate friends, but I
never had the faintest notion of marrying her."

Wyllard went out to harness his team, and, as it happened, did not
notice that Sally, who had approached the door with a tray in her hands
a moment or two earlier, drew back before him softly. When he had
crossed the room she set down the tray and leaned upon the table, with
her cheeks burning. Then, feeling that she could not stay in the
stove-heated room, she went out, and stood in the slushy snow. One of
her hands was tightly closed, and all the colour had vanished from her
cheeks now. She, however, contrived to give Hawtrey his supper by and
bye, and soon afterwards drove away.

CHAPTER IV.

A CRISIS.

While Wyllard made arrangements for his journey, and Sally Creighton
went very quietly about her work on the lonely prairie farm, it
happened one evening that Miss Winifred Rawlinson sat uneasily
expectant far back under th