“You are never in the least idiotic,” Ruth smiled. “But if you are to cross the hills before dark, it’s time we gave you something to eat.”
He turned to her, half resigned and half indignant.
“Oh, well! If the auto jumps a bushman’s bridge or goes down into a gulch, you’ll be sorry you snubbed me.”
“We won’t anticipate anything so direful,” Ruth responded; then, with a sudden change of tone, she added: “Take that post in your father’s mill, Aynsley; I think you ought.”
He studied her a moment and then made a sign of assent.
“All right! I’ll do it,” he said.
An hour later she watched him start the car, and then sat down among the pines to think, for there were questions which required an answer. Aynsley was very likable. Beyond that she did not go. Her thoughts turned to Farquhar, and she wondered why she so resented his dropping out of sight. She knew little about him, but she could not forget the evenings when they leaned on the rails together as the great ship went steadily across the moonlit sea. Now, for she believed he was the man Aynsley had met, he was in the desolate North, and she wondered what he was doing there, and what perils he had to face. It cost her an effort to banish him from her mind; but there was another question which had aroused her curiosity. How had her father spent the years when she was in her aunt’s care, before he had grown rich? He had told her nothing about his struggles, but she must ask. Sometimes he looked careworn and she could give him better sympathy if it were based on understanding. And how had his riches been gained, so quickly? Ruth had the utmost confidence in her father, which even her aunt’s doubts could not shake; nevertheless, she resolved to question him.
CHAPTER IX—THE MINE AT SNOWY CREEK
Osborne was sitting on his veranda one hot evening while Ruth reclined in a basket-chair, glancing at him thoughtfully. Of late she had felt that she did not know her father as well as she ought: there was a reserve about him which she had failed to penetrate. He had treated her with indulgent kindness and had humored her every wish since she came to him; but before that there had been a long interval, during which he had sent her no word, and these years had obviously left their mark on him. She felt compassionate and somewhat guilty. So far, she had been content to be petted and made much of, taking all and giving nothing. It was time there should be a change.
Osborne was of medium height and spare figure, and slightly lame in one foot. On the whole, his appearance was pleasing; though he was not of the type his daughter associated with the successful business man. There was a hint of imaginative dreaminess in his expression, and his face was seamed with lines and wrinkles that spoke of troubles borne, Ruth had heard him described as headstrong and romantic in his younger days, but he was now philosophically acquiescent, and marked by somewhat ironical humor. She wondered what stern experiences had extinguished his youthful fire.