“But—” she stopped, looking thoroughly dashed. The Colonel wondered what was in her mind.
“But not to-morrow?” she asked, drawing near to him and speaking urgently, “you’ll be here to-morrow?”
“Yes, I’ll be here to-morrow. My horse won’t be able to take the ride till the day after. He’s gone tender on his forefoot.”
She was silent, looking down on the path and absently trailing the leaf-decked tip of her switch in the dust. He regarded her with tender amusement.
“You haven’t seen the spring yet,” she said abruptly without raising her eyes.
The remark was startling. It was the discovery of this spring which had led to the unpleasantness with the squatter. The Colonel would probably have gone on paying the taxes and letting the squatter live on his premises till the end of things, if the spring had not waked him to the possibilities of ownership. He colored a little. For the first time it seemed to him the young girl had shown bad taste.
“No,” he answered, “I haven’t seen it. I didn’t see that it was necessary. I’ve had the water analyzed. That was enough.”
“But you ought to see it,” she continued, still looking at the end of the switch. “It’s a wonderful spring. Everybody says so. I discovered it.”
Her face, as she began speaking, flushed faintly and then deeper. When she had finished the color was spread over it in a clear transparent blush.
“I doubt whether I’ll be able to get there,” he replied with just a trace of stiffness in his manner. “It’s quite a walk, I understand, and it’s so hot—”