But his eyes were too full of Innes to see mature dimples. His boyishness lacked tact. It was nearly three months since he had seen her; a desert of days, those! The difference in the quality of his greetings smote Gerty like a blow. Until her mirror told her differently she would feel youthful. And she had never considered Tom’s sister attractive, as a possible rival. Yet, after a handshake, she saw that to MacLean, Jr., she did not exist.
A boat was anchored to a pile on the muddy stream. MacLean jumped in. “I’ll hold it steady.”
Innes scrambled past his waiting hand, and steadied herself toward the stern. “I’ll steer.”
Mrs. Hardin and her lace ruffles were placed carefully in the bow.
“Can you climb up that ladder?” MacLean asked Innes.
“Climb? I’m a cat! Didn’t you know it?”
A group of welcoming faces was bending over the rail as they drew up in the shadow of the dredge. Innes was on the ladder before MacLean could secure the boat. She had disappeared with the welcoming young engineers who had much to show her, before Mrs. Hardin and her lace ruffles were over the side.
Gerty was deeply piqued. Until now, the field had been hers, divided distantly by the Silent kitchen. She might perhaps have to change her opinion of Tom’s sister. Boys, she had to concede, the younger men, might find her attractive, boyishly congenial; older men would fail to see a charm!
The arrangement at table annoyed Gerty. The boss, MacLean explained gaily, would not be there for dinner. He had been called down the levee, taking Irish with him. He might come in later. Two men from the Reclamation Service tried to entertain Mrs. Hardin.
“Did you get Jose Cordoza?” demanded Bodefeldt under cover of a rush of voices, and then crimsoned because every one stopped to listen to him.