“Somebody else would have taught you––you’d have conjugated it in another language, maybe,” he said.
“Yes, you say it’s the easiest lesson to learn,” she nodded, soberly now. “Have you taught it to many––many––girls?”
“According to the book, Joan,” he returned; “only that way.”
Joan drew a deep breath, and looked away over the hills, and smiled. But she said no more, after the way of one who has relieved the mind on a doubted point.
“I expect I’ll be getting a taste of the lonesomeness here of nights pretty soon,” Mackenzie said, feeling himself in an awkward, yet not unpleasant situation with this frank girl’s rather impertinent question still burning in his heart. “Dad’s going to leave me to take charge of another flock.”
“I’ll try to keep you so busy you’ll not have it very bad,” she said.
“Yes, and you’ll pump your fount of knowledge dry in a hurry if you don’t slow down a little,” he returned. “At the pace you’ve set you’ll have to import a professor to take you along, unless one strays in from somewhere.”
“I don’t take up with strays,” said Joan, rather loftily.
“I think Dad’s getting restless,” Mackenzie said, hastening to cover his mistake.