She drove away a little later, and when Flett had gone to bed George and Edgar sat talking a while beside the stove.
"Grant's a staunch friend, and I'm more impressed with Flora every time I see her," said the lad. "She's pleasant to talk to, she can harness and handle a team with any one; but for all that, you recognize a trace of what I can only call the grand manner in her. Though I understand that she has been to the old country, it's rather hard to see how she got it."
George signified agreement. Miss Grant was undoubtedly characterized by a certain grace and now and then by an elusive hint of stateliness. It was a thing quite apart from self-assertion; a gracious quality, which he had hitherto noticed only in the bearing of a few elderly English ladies of station.
"I suppose you thanked her for that seed?" Edgar resumed.
"I said I was grateful to her father."
"I've no doubt you took the trouble to mark the distinction. It might have been more considerate if you had divided your gratitude."
"What do you mean?"
"It's hardly likely that the idea of helping you in that particular way originated with Alan Grant, though I shouldn't be surprised if he had been allowed to think it did."
George looked surprised and Edgar laughed.
"You needn't mind. It's most improbable that Miss Grant either wished or expected you to understand. She's a very intelligent young lady."