Wayland grinned. “Piano! No—the cinch.”
“The what?”
Wayland explained. “Miss McFarlane was brought up on a ranch. She can rope and tie a steer, saddle her own horse, pack an outfit, and all the rest of it.”
“Oh! Kind of cowgirl, eh?”
Mrs. McFarlane, eager to put Berrie’s better part forward, explained: “She’s our only child, Mr. Norcross, and as such has been a constant companion to her father. She’s not all cow-hand. She’s been to school, and she can cook and sew as well.”
He looked from one to the other. “Neither of you correspond exactly to my notions of a forester’s wife and daughter.”
“Mrs. McFarlane comes from an old Kentucky family, father. Her grandfather helped to found a college down there.”
Wayland’s anxious desire to create a favorable impression of the women did not escape the lumberman, but his face remained quite expressionless as he replied:
“If the life of a cow-hand would give you the vigor this young lady appears to possess, I’m not sure but you’d better stick to it.”
Wayland and the two women exchanged glances of relief.