"I hope so. I've only spoken to him once, but I like him."
She disappeared presently, leaving him busy with special instructions to the police—in case of disturbance. She did not worry about that, being chiefly conscious that a load was gone from her spirit. Singing softly to herself, she went out with gladness in her eyes, and halfway to Filmer's store encountered Mrs. Bowers. The latter looked pale and tired. Bowers, for the past twenty-four hours, had been a much tried man—and his wife reflected it.
"Good evening," said the latter, "you look very fresh. How do you manage it?"
Mrs. Manson, suddenly recalled to earth, smiled gently. "I'm rather happy to-day. I hope Mr. Bowers is not very anxious."
"It's no use saying he isn't, but he doesn't talk about it. How's your husband?"
"Splendid."
"Well, you're the only untroubled pair I've heard of to-day. My husband's in a frightful temper because he didn't sell our land six months ago. He says we'll never sell it now, but I'm just as glad. Is the whole thing going to break up?" Mrs. Bowers swung her parasol toward the rapids.
"I—I don't really know anything about it," said the little woman with a touch of nervousness from which she recovered instantly, then, smiling, "perhaps I'll come over to-morrow."
"Do, there's a heap to talk about, and smile like that just as long as you can—the town needs it."
She walked on, her mind very busy. Without question something excellent had happened to the Mansons—and in a time like this! Manson was said to be in the way of making a fortune, and now, she concluded, he had made it. There was no other explanation for an expression like his wife's when such grim rumors were abroad. A little later she told Mrs. Worden, and both the judge and Bowers heard of it, and next day the story reached a dozen houses in St. Marys. The constable, it was said, for all his pessimism, had been sharper than Clark himself.