"What am I to give you for the medicine?" the woman asked.
Alison, who listened unabashed, heard Thorne's laugh.
"Breakfast," he answered; "that will put us square. I've been selling gramophones and little mirrors by the dozen right along the line, and when I've struck a streak of that kind I don't rob my friends."
Though she did not know exactly why, Alison had expected such an answer, and she remembered with a curious feeling that he had said his friends were poor. She heard the woman thank him, and then a flush crept into her face, for she certainly had not expected the next question.
"Are you going to quit the peddling and take up a quarter-section with the girl?"
"No," laughed Thorne; "I don't know where you got that idea."
"She's your kind," replied his hostess, and this appeared significant to Alison. "I've seen folks like her back in Montreal."
"It's quite likely," said Thorne. "She's going to Mrs. Hunter."
"Mrs. Hunter? Why didn't they send for her? What's her name?"
"I haven't a notion. She walked into Brown's hotel yesterday looking played out and anxious, and said somebody had told her I was going to the Bluff. As I felt sorry for her I started at once."