"Four," said Thorne, "if one must be precise. For one thing, there seemed to be a good demand for gramophones; for another, I wanted a talk with Elcot, and somebody said he was in at the railroad yesterday."
"I suppose you want to borrow a team from him again?"
"No," Thorne replied tranquilly; "in this case my object is to borrow money—or, at least, I want to raise it in such a way that if I don't meet my obligations your husband will be liable."
He turned toward his host.
"Do you think you could guarantee me to the extent of, say, a thousand dollars?"
"If it's merely a question of ability, I believe I could. Whether it would be judicious is quite another matter. What are you going to do with the money?"
Thorne explained his purpose much as he had done to Farquhar and Hunter listened with quiet amusement.
"The whim might last a month, and then there'd probably be an auction of your stock and implements, and we would get word that you had gone off on the trail again," he said. "A quiet life wouldn't suit you. You tried it once with Bishop and it's generally understood that you turned his house inside out one day during the winter you spent with him."
"There's just a little truth in that," Thorne confessed. "Bishop's a nice man, but he has the most exasperating ways, and one would need more patience than I have to stand them. Try to imagine it—three months of improving conversation and undeviating regularity. Breakfast to the minute; the kettle to stand always on the same spot on the stove; the potato pan on another. Your boots must be put in exactly the same corner."
"It's unthinkable," laughed Mrs. Hunter. "We once had him here for a day or two. But what was the particular cause of trouble?"