A half-hour passed, and Charlie left the building under the strictest kind of orders not to mention to Bill Carmody either Ethel or the bonds.
Puzzling his small head over the inexplicable doings of grown-up people, he wandered toward the cook-shack to hunt up Daddy Dunnigan, with whom he had already struck up a great friendship.
"She loves him and he loves her," he muttered to himself as he scuffed his brand-new moccasins through the soft snow, "and each one tries to let on they don't. And Uncle Appleton won't let me tell Bill she does so he'd go and tell her he does; and then old man Carmody and his bonds could go to the devil!
"You bet, I hope I never get in love and act like a couple of fools. Now, I bet she'll marry that sniffit, and he'll marry Blood River Jack's sister." The boy paused and glanced speculatively at the falling snow. "I wonder if he wants to? Anyhow, I can ask him that much."
Later, in the office, Mrs. Appleton broke in upon her husband's third black cigar. There was no doorway connecting the office with the other two rooms, and the lumberman watched the snowflakes melt on his wife's hair as she seated herself directly in front of him.
"Well, Hubert Appleton, this is a nice mess you have got us into, I must say!"
"Me!" grinned the man. "Why, little girl, this is your party."
"I wish you would tell me who it was that suggested leaving out young Mr. Holbrooke, and coming here so that Ethel could meet this man?"
"She—er—met him—didn't she?"
"You needn't try to be facetious! What are you going to do about it?"