Purposely he held his eyes from Mélisse. She understood his effort, and a quick flush gathered in her cheeks.
"It was MacVeigh who brought in word of you," persisted the factor, oblivious of the effect of his questions.
"I met him in the Cree Lake country, but he said nothing of his trap-lines."
He rose from the table with Cummins, and started to follow him from the cabin. Mélisse came between. For a moment her hand rested upon his arm.
"You are going to stay with me, Jan," she smiled. "I want your help with the dishes, and then we're going to play on the violin."
She pulled him into a chair as Cummins left, and tied an apron about his shoulders.
"Close your eyes—and don't move!" she commanded, laughing into his surprised face as she ran into her room.
A moment later she returned with one hand held behind her back. The hot blood surged through Jan's veins when he felt her fingers running gently through his long hair. There came the snip of scissors, a little nervous laugh close to his head, and then again the snip, snip, snip of the scissors.
"It's terribly long, Jan!" Her soft hand brushed his bearded cheek.
"Ugh!" she shuddered. "You must take that off your face. If you don't—"
"Why?" he asked, through lack of anything else to say.