"And the others here? Do they make her and him—feel it?"
Filmer laughed.
"You forget," he replied; "Gaston's got about all the floating capital there is around here. Where he gets it, is his own affair, and him and Joyce don't ask no favours. The whole thing has settled into shape. You needn't get excited over it. Of course, the women folks have warned your aunt and sister off. I believe they call Joyce the worst woman in the place—when they're whispering—but they don't take any chances of giving offence by speaking out loud."
"Poor little girl!" Drew's eyes were misty. He shivered slightly and pulled his fur coat closer about his chin. "How does she look, Filmer?"
"As handsome as—well, a queen would give her back teeth to look like Joyce. I never seen the like. Head up, back as straight as a pine sapling, eyes shining and hair like—like mist with sunlight in it. Gaston has taught her to speak like he does. You know he always kept his language up-to-date and stylish? Well, she's caught the trick now. You'd think she'd travelled the way she hugs her g's and d's. She trips over the grammar rules occasionally—but I always said they had to be born in your blood to make you sure, and even then—you have to exercise them daily."
"Poor little Joyce! I always felt she was only half awake, as she stood that day before me. If I had it to do now—I would wake her up, before I made the tie fast."
"Lord help us!" Jock felt the relief of an unburdened mind; "is it in your religion to tie anything fast?"
"Yes; yes." Drew was looking over the sunlighted hills and thinking of that lovely, dreaming face of a year ago.
"And now," Filmer was drawling on, "while you and me are on this sort of house-cleaning spell, let me drop another item of interest into your think-tank. We-all up here ain't going to stand for any preaching business. I say this outspoken and friendly, meaning no ill feeling; just plain, what's what. You see them ideas of yours what you handed out last year set folks thinking. They sounded so blasted innercent and easy that we all chewed on 'em for a time, and some of us got stung. Now them as is native here can't think without suffering; and them as came here, came to get rid of thinking, and so you see none of us want to be riled along that line. See?"
"I see." Drew smiled, and stretched his thin white hand out to Filmer. "Thanks. But if they'll let me live—that's all I want. It's my only way of preaching, anyhow—and Filmer, I am going to live. I feel the blood running to my heart and brain. I feel it bringing back hope and interest—a man can make a place for himself anywhere if there are men and women about. I thought first—back there—when I dropped everything, that there never could be anything else worth while, but I tell you old man, if you take even a remnant of life and love to Death's portal you're always mighty glad to get the chance to come back and see the game out. It's when you go empty-handed, that you long to slip in and have done with it. Filmer, there's something yet left for me to do."