It was not long afterward, when returning from Jasper’s 306 at night, I found the remains of a meal on the table, and my sister waiting with news for me.
“I’m glad you didn’t come home earlier, Ralph,” she said. “I am quite ashamed of my inconsistency. It’s nice to think oneself inflexible, isn’t it? And then it’s humiliating to resolve on a certain course and do the opposite.”
She paused, either to excite my curiosity or to afford an opportunity for considering the sentiment.
“Never mind all that. Come to the point, Aline,” I said. But she stirred the stove, and dusted some plates that did not require it, before she continued:
“I had made up my mind to hate Mrs. Fletcher forever, and, do you know, I let her kiss me scarcely half an hour ago.”
“Minnie here again! Oh, confound her!” I said, banging back my chair.
“It’s wicked to lose your temper, Ralph,” Aline answered sweetly, “and very unbecoming in an elder brother. It isn’t poor Minnie’s fault that her husband is what you call a bad egg, is it? Yes, she came here in a sleigh with two tired horses, and one was lame. She was going to meet her husband somewhere. He has become a teetotaler, and promises to turn out quite a virtuous character. She hinted at something which I didn’t know about that happened at the trial—it was too bad of you to burn those papers—and said he was going to Dakota, across the border. She was almost frozen, had only fall clothes on, and she was very hungry. It wouldn’t have been right to let her face an all-night drive in Arctic weather like that, and she put the horses into the stable, while I lent her all my wrappings, gave her food to take, and made her rest and eat. She said she felt she must call and tell me how very sorry she was. Then she cried on my head, and I let her kiss me. We should always be forgiving, Ralph, shouldn’t we?” 307
“Tom Fletcher reformed!” I said astonished. “Oh, how foolish you women are! I’ve only met one who is always sensible;” and then an idea struck me, and I added quickly: “Are you quite sure Fletcher wasn’t in the sleigh?”
“No, Fletcher wasn’t there—at least, I’d had neuralgia, so I only looked out of the window. Minnie put up the horses.”
Then I flung open a cupboard door, and what I saw confirmed a growing suspicion. For legal reasons whisky is scarce on portions of the prairie, but a timely dose of alcohol has saved many a man’s life in the Canadian frost, and we always kept some spirits in case of emergency.