ANOTHER SURPRISE
Outwardly, life on the Mackay ranch settled back to its old groove. Work went on as usual. Angus entered into an agreement with McGinity which relieved him from present money worries. But the actual railway construction would take time, and meanwhile, next season, he could take off another crop.
Already the summer was done, the days shortening, the evenings growing cool. Birds were full-grown and strong of wing. Fogs hung in the mornings, to be dispelled by the sun slanting a little to southward. The days were clear, warm, windless. In the lake, trees and mountain ranges were reflected with the accuracy of a mirror. On these shadows, as perfect upside down as right side up, Faith expended photographic film prodigally.
Chetwood had returned to the ranch, but Jean had refused to restore the status quo. She treated him with formal politeness, avoiding him skilfully, taking care that he should not see her alone. Mrs. Foley, now in complete charge of the ranch kitchen, commented thereon.
"What's th' racket bechune yez?" she asked bluntly. "Ye act like ye was feared to be wid th' lad alone. An' a while ago I felt it me duty as a fellow-woman to cough, or dhrop a broom—"
"Nonsense!" Jean interrupted tartly.
"Well, a dacint lad he is—f'r a sassenach—fair-spoken, wid a smile, an' a pleasant word f'r th' likes iv me, an' always a josh on th' tip iv his tongue."
Jean sniffed.
"Havin' buried four min, I know their ways," Mrs. Foley continued. "Whin a man's eyes rest on a woman wishful, like a hungry dog's on a green bone, that's thrue love."
"I'm not a bone!" Jean snapped.