“Sorry,” he laughed. “I wasn’t thinking of you, though honestly I’m afraid it’s rough for you, and may be rougher. By the way, what a nice way out of my difficulty it would be if you could marry. Won’t you think it over? You could have your pick of anyone on the Ridge for a start.”
“Is that a proposal?” she asked. “I thought we agreed——”
“Most certainly not,” he protested indignantly. “And if you’re going to twist my well-intentioned remarks into proposals of marriage, I’ll get out and walk. I shall have to appeal to your uncle to protect me.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, sir, I won’t be married to-day, thank you,” she joked. “But if I think of it later on, I’ll apply to you, as you seem so confident of finding a husband.”
“I’ll round you up a whole mob, and let you take your pick,” he said. “Don’t let me hurry you, but it would be such a blessing if we could be pals without being accused of having other ends in view.”
“Even for that great boon I’m afraid I can’t oblige just now,” she laughed.
As they approached the trees the cry of the sheep rose to one long, thin, continuous wail, and through it they could hear the ring of axes at work.
“There’s Scottie,” said Steve, pointing to a figure waving a hat in the air. “He wants us over there evidently.”
He wheeled the buggy, and the horses cantered across to where Scottie waited them.
Steve jumped down and helped the girl to alight, unharnessed and hobbled the horses, and turned them loose.