"Did he ever tell you why his remittances had stopped?"
"No. Of course I never asked. I got the idea that something had gone bust—that there was no more money coming in. He wasn't actually a remittance man, you know. He had some money of his own."
"It comes to the same thing—if he hasn't any now," said Miss Jean. "It will be a good thing for him to do some work."
She exhibited no special enthusiasm when she met the young man. Chetwood in overalls, with nailed boots, hard and brown, differed materially from the young idler of the summer before, but his cheery good nature was unchanged. Apparently the loss of his income or capital, or both, did not worry him.
The next day Jean rode over with Angus to make Faith Winton's acquaintance. Angus left them alone to be friends or otherwise. Returning a couple of hours later, he found that there was no doubt about their mutual attitude.
"Why, she's a dear!" Jean declared enthusiastically as they rode homeward. "Why didn't you tell me what she was like?"
"I tried to."
"You said she was clean-built, like a good horse. I told her—"
"What!" Angus cried in horror.
"Not that, of course. I told her you were a clam. She said from your description she thought I was a skinny, little girl in braids and short dresses."