Mrs. Gray, a bright-looking little French Canadian, who, without a single really good feature except her dark, vivacious eyes, was a very pretty woman, was lost in admiration of Janet's regular features and white skin.
"But you never told me that your sister was so pretty, Gilbert?"
"I declare, I never thought about it," he answered. "Poor mother used to be very proud of her looks, and her good marriage, poor child!"
"Gilbert, is there no chance that we may keep them here? Now that she is getting better, we ought to settle what to say to her."
"You wish to keep them?"
"Well, think of our long, lonely winters! Even the children would be glad of two new companions. And for me, a woman like her—ah, what a comfort!"
"But, Aimée, the hotel notion won't work—not with Rayburn as manager; he's done for that plan."
"I suppose so; but, should you try it with another manager, you would want help here, and so should I. And you would have to drive to Gattigo much oftener than now. You could trust him?"
"Well, I hope so."
"Why, Gilbert, you always say you think him innocent."