Then Miss Jardine came in, somewhat to the relief of Festing, who felt he could not keep up long on Helen's plane. Besides, he was not altogether sure he understood her last remark.
“I heard,” said Miss Jardine. “Helen's sometimes improving, but perhaps she was right just now. The ape is cunning but acquiescent and accepts things as they are. Man protests, and fights to make them better. At least, he ought to, though one can't say he always does.”
Festing did not reply and she sat down and resumed: “But I suppose you haven't many shirkers in Canada?”
“I imagine we have as many wastrels as there are anywhere else, but as a rule one doesn't find them in the woods and on the plains. When they leave the cities they're apt to starve.”
“You're a grim lot. Work or starve is a stern choice, particularly if one has never done either. It looks as if you hadn't much use for purely ornamental people. But what about the half-taught women who don't know how to work? What do you do with them?”
“They're not numerous. Then one can always learn, and I imagine every woman can cook and manage a house.”
“You're taking much for granted, though yours seems to be the conventional view. But how did you learn railroad building, for example?”
“By unloading ties and shoveling ballast on the track. The trouble was that I began too late.”
“What did you do before that?”
“Sometimes I worked in sawmills and sometimes packed—that means carrying things—for survey parties, and went prospecting.”