"To see Carrie—and yourself, madam," and Urmston smiled with a mischievous relish that made him look very young. "Could one venture to hope that in your case the pleasure is reciprocated?"
"I am, at least, disposed to tolerate anybody from the Old Country, though I can't go very much further. When one has been a few months here, one is apt to become contented with the products of Canada."
"The wheat? Have you turned farmer?"
Eveline Annersly's eyes twinkled. "No," she said. "The men. They are, after all, the finest thing this country raises."
Urmston laughed, though he felt that he had been favoured with a hint. Mrs. Annersly, however, had more to say.
"Have you suddenly grown energetic, and decided to do something?" she asked.
"No," said Urmston. "As a matter of fact, I came out to see the country and enjoy myself, although I have an ostensible mission. Geoffrey Crossthwaite is, as you are aware, a meddler in social economics, and has lately become interested in one of the especially commendable schemes for dumping into our dependencies the folks nobody seems to want at home."
"Ah," said Eveline Annersly, "that explains the thing."
Urmston flushed a trifle, and forced a smile.
"Well," he said, "I'm not quite sure that it does in itself. I happen to know a little about English farming, and am expected to report upon the prospects of giving other undesirables a start in life here, though there are two regular experts with the party."