“I think I OFFERED to help Miss Dows,” said Courtland with a quickness that he at once regretted.
“So did HE, don't you know? Miss Sally does not ASK anybody. Don't you see? a fellow don't like to stand by and see a young lady like her doing such work.” Vaguely aware of some infelicity in his speech, he awkwardly turned the subject: “I don't think I shall stay here long, myself.”
“You expect to return to England?” asked Courtland.
“Oh, no! But I shall go out of the company's service and try my own hand. There's a good bit of land about three miles from here that's in the market, and I think I could make something out of it. A fellow ought to settle down and be his own master,” he answered tentatively, “eh?”
“But how will Miss Dows be able to spare you?” asked Courtland, uneasily conscious that he was assuming an indifference.
“Oh, I'm not much use to her, don't you know—at least not HERE. But I might, if I had my own land and if we were neighbors. I told you SHE runs the place, no matter who's here, or whose money is invested.”
“I presume you are speaking now of young Miss Dows?” said Courtland dryly.
“Miss Sally—of course—always,” said Champney simply. “She runs the shop.”
“Were there not some French investors—relations of Miss Dows? Does anybody represent THEM?” asked Courtland pointedly.
Yet he was not quite prepared for the naive change in his companion's face. “No. There was a sort of French cousin who used to be a good deal to the fore, don't you know? But I rather fancy he didn't come here to look after the PROPERTY,” returned Champney with a quick laugh. “I think the aunt must have written to his friends, for they 'called him off,' and I don't think Miss Sally broke her heart about him. She's not that sort of girl—eh? She could have her pick of the State if she went in for that sort of thing—eh?”