“You should have told me. It’s most a league round by Lorton’s place,” Sally returned with reproach in her voice.
“That won’t take long with this team. Have you any great objections to another fifteen minutes’ drive with me?”
Sally looked up at him, and the moonlight was on her face, which was unusually pretty in the radiance of the brilliant night.
“No,” she admitted, “I haven’t any.”
She spoke demurely, but there was a perceptible something in her voice which might have warned the man, had he been in the habit of taking warning from anything, which, however, was not the case. It was one of his weaknesses that he seldom thought about what he did until he was compelled to face the consequences; and it was, perhaps, to his credit that he had after all done very little harm, for there was hot blood in him.
“Well,” he responded, “I’m not going to grumble about those extra three miles, but you were asking what land I meant to break this spring. What put that into your mind?”
“Our folks,” Sally replied candidly. “They were talking about you.”
This again was significant, but Hawtrey did not notice it.
“I’ve no doubt they said I ought to tackle the new quarter section,” he suggested.
“Yes,” assented Sally. “Why don’t you do it? Last fall you thrashed out quite a big harvest.”