"I see," Jack answered, with her usual gentleness and good temper. She was wounded, but Frieda's attitude toward her had been like this for some time, and to-night, when she appreciated that her sister was especially troubled, was scarcely the moment to refer to their differences. "Of course I should have preferred to know. Is Peace very ill?"
Frieda shook her head.
"No, not at present, but I am uneasy and we have sent for a nurse."
"Won't you let some of the other little girls come down to the lodge and stay with me?"
A second time Frieda shook her head.
"No, they have gone to Olive. Jean has gone with them. You know Olive and Captain MacDonnell have an extra sleeping tent and I thought it best you should not be annoyed by them either."
This time Jack was unable wholly to restrain herself.
"Why should I have been annoyed, Frieda? I am not so impossible a person, am I? And the work I have been trying to do lately, even if you do disapprove of it, has not turned me into an ogre. But I won't worry you to-night, although I do believe, Frieda, you really intend to be unkind. Has Jim come back? I have not seen him for several days and if he is at home and not busy I thought perhaps he would walk back to the lodge with me."
Never in her life from the time she was a small girl had Frieda accepted reproof in an humble spirit, except under a few and very exceptional circumstances. The truth was that she had been spoiled all her days, first because she was the youngest of the four Rainbow ranch girls, her mother having died when she was little more than a baby, and later by her husband, who was a good deal her senior.
Now in spite of her sister's long self-restraint, Frieda showed resentment.