It was a jolly, friendly voice that reassured the child’s heart of Loseis. And it was clear that he was speaking to others whom he knew to be as honest and kind as himself. Loseis had a sudden vision of the populous, kindly world lying outside, and her breast yearned over it. The friendly voice seemed to bring her so close, to admit her to that world. But a realization of her loneliness swept over her. There was that thousand miles of prairie, muskeg and forest lying between. Alone! Alone! worse than alone, for she was hedged about with false and lying men who wished her ill. Ah! If she could only communicate with the honest people, they would not let her come to harm. Drawn quite out of herself, Loseis rose to her feet, stretching out her arms.
“Oh, if I could only speak to him!” she murmured.
Gault laughed heartily. “That would require a whole transmitting station,” he said. “Quite a different matter from getting it.”
Loseis dropped back in her chair. She glanced at the trader with involuntary dislike. What a coarse animal under his fine manners! she thought.
When the concert came to an end, Gault said: “To-morrow night, we’ll get the Slavis into the kitchen, and spring it on them,” he said laughing. “Lordy! what a scatteration there will be!”
Loseis got up to go. “You will do what you like, of course,” she said coldly. “But do not expect me to come.”
“But why?” asked the surprised Gault.
“It’s a beautiful, wonderful thing,” said Loseis, looking wistfully at the red box. “I should not care to see it made a mock of.”
“Oh, well, in that case,” said Gault quickly, “no Slavis! I brought this over solely to give you pleasure, Princess!”