There was a twinkle in Gallwey's eyes. "It will probably be difficult, but I almost think, in your case, not absolutely impossible."
"Well, I will do what I can. It is rather a pity you have to go away."
The smile grew a trifle plainer in Gallwey's eyes. "As a matter of fact, and, although I am quite aware that there will probably be trouble about it, I am not going. One of the boys will have to ride round with the paper, instead of me. Still, you will have to decide how you can keep your husband in."
He went away and left her to grapple with the question, which, since Leland was a self-willed man, was a somewhat difficult one. It was some little while before there occurred to her a rather primitive device which appeared likely to prove effective. She had, however, not quite realised the inherent obstinacy of her husband's temperament.
It accordingly happened that, when the crippled Jake was busy cleaning up the big general room early next morning, he was astonished to see Leland, attired in airy pyjamas, appear in the doorway. He raised his hand as though in warning, and glanced towards the other door. It occurred to Jake that he did not look well.
"Mrs. Nesbit's not around?" Leland asked.
Jake said she was in the cook-shed just then, and Leland sat down somewhat limply in the nearest chair.
"Slip up into Tom Gallwey's room, and bring me a suit of his clothes, the new ones he goes to the settlement in," he said. "That will square the deal, because I can't help thinking he had a hand in the thing."
"Where's your own?" asked Jake in evident bewilderment.
"That," said Leland, drily, "is just what is worrying me. But you do what I tell you quick before Mrs. Nesbit comes in."