When the visitors rose to go, Harding appeared. He had come, he explained, for an ox-chain clevis.
"I have another visit to make," Beatrice said, when he had helped her to mount. "The shortest way is across the ravine and there used to be a trail, unless you have plowed it up."
"No," he laughed; "I mean to improve that one. However, as it's not very good, and there's an awkward place, I'll show you the way down."
They left the camp together, and Harding was not pleased to notice no difference in the girl's attitude to him. He had not expected her to show embarrassment, but he would not have minded a dignified aloofness. It looked as if she had not thought it worth while to resent his boldness when they last met. For all that, it made his heart beat fast to be near her.
Beatrice glanced toward the dark-brown line of the fall plowing.
"Do you know what our people are saying about you? You haven't shown much regard for your neighbors' feelings."
"I'd try to respect their needs."
"Well, that is something. Still, the trail was at least convenient, and it had stood for a number of years."
"I'm afraid some more of the old landmarks will have to go. These are changing times."
"And I suppose there's satisfaction in feeling that you are leading the way?"