“I suppose the recent calamity brought you,” the rancher ventured.
“Yes; I have come to see justice done. But we will not discuss that yet. We arrived yesterday evening and found it was impossible that my daughter should be comfortable at the hotel; besides which, it is rather too far away. I accordingly determined to look for quarters at one of the ranches, but succeeded in getting shelter for only the one night.”
Prescott felt amused. Jernyngham and his daughter were not the kind of people the somewhat primitive prairie ranchers would welcome; their request for accommodation was more likely to cause astonishment and alarm.
“People are very busy, now that harvest’s coming on, and they’ve extra hands to cook for,” he explained.
“I understand,” continued Jernyngham, “that my son’s homestead is in this neighborhood, and domestics might be hired; but after what has happened, I fear my daughter would find living there a painful strain. That was why I thought of applying to you.”
The announcement filled Prescott with dismay. The presence of the Jernynghams might involve him in further complications.
“I’m sorry, but we live very simply,” he said hastily. “My place is only half furnished; we have no time to make it comfortable—and I’m sure you’d find our cooking barbarous. I’m afraid Miss Jernyngham couldn’t put up with the accommodation we could offer her.”
“We only want quietness, fresh air, and a little privacy, none of which seems to be obtainable at Sebastian. While the question of terms is no consideration, I recognize that I must make my appeal to your generosity.”
Prescott did not answer, and Jernyngham resumed in a more urgent tone:
“I must beg you not to make difficulties; I’m told there is nobody else in the neighborhood who could take us in. We will require very little attention and will promise to give you no trouble.”