“As I said, this estate entails a heavy responsibility, and I have been considering what I should do concerning the creamery. My father acted as seemed right according to his judgment, and I do not know all his reasons, but now that the decision devolves upon me I am impelled to act according to my own. No two people see the same thing under the same aspect, and—this is no disrespect to him—I dare not do otherwise. I think the creamery will enhance the settlement’s prosperity, and though I cannot grant the Green Mountain site, in which you must bear with me, you may take the next best, the Willow Grove, with its timber and water, at an appraised value, to be represented by stock in the creamery. This is all I have to tell you, and until I resign this position to Miss Carrington I trust to enjoy your friendship and good-will. You will, I hope, decide, before you go when to start the work.”
“There is still a ruler of Carrington; we haven’t a Salic law. We are all your servants, madam,” a big man said, and when some one cried, “To the Princess of Carrington,” the rafters rang to the thunderous cheer, while once more I wondered that Grace should ever have listened to me. Whether it was born in her, an hereditary 369 dowry, or was the result of her father’s influence and company, I do not know, but Grace, who could at other times be only womanly, spoke to the riders of Carrington with the air of a sovereign. And yet it appeared perfectly seemly that she should do so, for whether mirthful, commanding, or pitiful, Grace was in all things natural. Neither is this prejudice in her favor on my part, for it is well known on the Assiniboian prairie. Still, even after work had commenced on the creamery and the finances of the Manor were adjusted temporarily, Grace would give me no definite promise as to when she would leave it for Fairmead. As yet her first duty was toward the helpless old man and the charge he had left her, she said.
By one of the striking coincidences that it is hard to believe are accidents, it happened that as we mounted outside the Manor a buggy came around one corner of the house, and with a feeling akin to consternation we turned to regard its occupant. A hired man held the reins, but beside him, wrapped in a fur coat although the day was warm, sat Colonel Carrington, a shivering, huddled object propped against the backboard. It was the first time we had seen him, and the sight troubled us, for the few weeks had made great changes in the ruler of Carrington.
“I’m afraid I’m breaking orders,” the driver explained. “Miss Grace said wait until you all had gone, but he would come, and I hadn’t the heart to refuse him. He’s not understanding much these days, but we take him out for an hour or two, when he’s able for it, in the sun.”
Colonel Carrington regarded us as if we were strangers, as with a pitiful courtesy some raised their hats to him. He attempted with one hand to strike a match and dropped it, and after Lyle ignited another and held it to his cigar he nodded cordially. “I thank you, sir,” he said with an entire absence of recognition. “I am not quite 370 as strong as I used to be. Could you tell me how far it is to Lone Hollow? I seem to have forgotten the way, and the snow is soft and heavy.”
It was a relief to all of us when the buggy drove off, and the assembly broke up with a sudden chill upon its enthusiasm.
One evening later I was walking home past Hudson’s dwelling when I noticed a curious cloud of dust hanging over the house, and strange sounds proceeding from it. They suggested that somebody was vigorously brushing it, which was certainly unusual. Now Hudson, though he held a quarter-section of Government land, had really no legal claim to it, because he had neither broken sufficient virgin sod nor put the necessary acreage under cultivation. He freely admitted that he was prejudiced against hard work, and, when in need of a few dollars to purchase actual necessities that he could not borrow, he would drive away with his wagon and peddle German oleographs and patent medicines to the less-educated settlers, returning after several weeks’ absence to settle down again to a period of loafing.
Aline and her friend Lilian Kenyon, as well as the latter’s brother were with me.
“What on earth can they be doing inside there, and what a noise they are making,” said Miss Kenyon.
“It shows that my good counsel has not all fallen on stony soil,” Aline answered laughingly. “Harry—that is Mr. Lorraine—is apparently seriously engaged in spring cleaning. I have been giving him lessons lately on the virtues of cleanliness.”