She received Bertha with a great demonstration of welcome, for no one who had ever spent a night under her roof was forgotten, and she declared that the prairie life must have suited the girl from the east, who had been so homesick, because it had made her so good-looking.
“It is rale beautiful that you have grown, my dear. Sure, but there is nothing to equal these lonely places for making the roses bloom in the faces of girls like yourself!” she exclaimed, taking Bertha by the shoulders and turning her round to the light.
Bertha flushed, and a happy light stole into her eyes. It had always been a secret trouble to her that she should be so plain and uninteresting, when Anne and Hilda had been so pleasant to look upon; therefore the feeling that someone thought that she was nice-looking warmed her heart and sent a glow of happiness through every fibre of her being.
“The prairie is a wonderful place for bringing out what there is in one,” she answered, laughing and flushing under the little woman’s gaze. “I had no idea that I could work so hard until I came out west.”
“And do you like it better than you thought that you would, or are you homesick still for the woods, the hills, and the seashore?” asked Mrs. Smith; and there was a wistfulness in her own eyes which seemed to point to the fact that she herself had unsatisfied longings for the land of her past.
“I believe that I long just as much as ever for the beautiful scenery, and especially for the sea. But one cannot have everything, you know, and I have so much more to fill my life now than I had in the past; so I am content,” replied Bertha, smiling down into the wistful eyes of the little Irishwoman.
“Ah, and it is that which makes for your good looks, my dear! Sure, and there’s nothing like contentment for making the roses bloom in the cheeks and the eyes to shine. How long have you come to stay with me, dear?” said Mrs. Smith, giving Bertha a gentle push into the big rocking chair which stood beside the stove.
“I am here for two nights, only I shall not be here,” replied Bertha, in some confusion, and then broke into a laugh at her own foolishness in mixing her speech up in such a fashion. “I mean that I am not going back to my cousin’s house until the day after to-morrow, but I have business which will take me to railhead, that is out beyond Wastover, and I am going out to-night in a freighter, and I suppose that I shall come back some time to-morrow night, only I can’t be sure when.”
“But you can’t go to railhead alone; them construction camps ain’t no place for a young girl like you,” objected Mrs. Smith, uplifting her hands in horror at the bare idea of such a thing.
“I am not going alone,” answered Bertha, with a reassuring smile. “Mrs. Walford, of the Mounted Police, is to take care of me, and Inspector Grant has written me a pass.”