“I had better be outspoken,” continued Dacre. “I got in touch with Mr. MacGonigal, and he informed me of your mother’s death; so I have hurried across America to be with you. Being rather afraid you might stop me en route, I requested MacGonigal not to tell you I was coming.”
“But I regard your action as a most kindly one.”
“Yes, now that I am here. For all that, old man, you might have wired very emphatic instructions on the point to Omaha yesterday.”
“My dear fellow, you find me in a house of mourning. Won’t you sit down? You must be tired. Can I get you anything?”
“My bones are stiff for want of exercise—that is all. Now, if you want to be a perfect host, have my traps sent to my room.... Don’t say you haven’t a spare bedroom!... Good! I’ll just open a bag, and get some tea—of course, you can’t possibly produce any decent tea—and your cook will boil a kettle, and after we have refreshed on the beverage that cheers while it does not inebriate, you will take me for a walk around this delightful ranch of yours. You see, I don’t mean to let you mope here by yourself. That is the last thing the dear lady who has been taken from you would wish. You will regard me as a beastly nuisance, but that cannot be helped.”
The ghost of a smile twinkled in Power’s eyes. He was quite alive to his friend’s object in rattling along in this fashion; but it was an undeniable relief that he should be compelled to follow the lead given so cheerfully.
“To show that you are welcome I’ll even drink your strong tea,” he said. “Nor am I alone here, as you seem to imagine. There are three ladies in the house—Mrs. Moore and her daughters, Minnie and Margaret. Hand over your bohea to Mrs. Moore—she’ll dispense it properly, and appreciate it, too, I have little doubt.”
In such wise was the black dog care partly lifted off Power’s shoulders. He had yet to learn that the human vessel cannot contain more than its due measure of sorrow. When it is filled to the brim no additional grief can find lodgment. Misfortune carried to excess has made cowards brave and given fools wisdom, and Derry Power was neither coward nor fool.
Mrs. Moore was naturally surprised when the visitor was introduced; but she hailed his presence with obvious relief. MacGonigal and Jake were invited to join the tea-party—and, at any other time, the cowboy’s struggles with a tiny cup and saucer of delicate china, a microscopic teaspoon, and a roll of thin bread and butter would have caused a good deal of merriment. Mac, thanks to his training in the store, juggled easily with these implements, and there was an air almost of light-heartedness about the company before it broke up at Power’s suggestion that he and Dacre might smoke while surveying some part of the ranch.
Dacre showed his knowledge of human nature by leading his friend on to talk of his mother. That way, he was sure, lay the waters of healing. While deploring the unhappy circumstances which attended Mrs. Power’s death, which Dr. Stearn put down to failure of the heart’s action, he swept aside her son’s bitter self-condemnation.