“I say, Mandy, I don't want to be rude, but—”
“Rude?” cried the girl. “You? You couldn't be. You are always good—to me—and—I—don't—know—” Here her voice broke.
“Oh, come, Mandy, get away to dinner. You are a good girl. Now leave me alone.”
The kindness in his voice quite broke down Mandy's all too slight control. She turned away, audibly sniffling, with her apron to her eyes, leaving Cameron in a state of wrathful perplexity.
“Oh, confound it all!” he groaned to himself. “This is a rotten go. By Jove! This means the West for me. The West! After all, that's the place. Here there is no chance anyway. Why did I not go sooner?”
He rose from the grass, shivering with a sudden chill, went to his bed in the hay mow, and, covering himself with Tim's blankets and his own, fell again into sleep. Here, late in the afternoon, Tim found him and called him to supper.
With Mandy's watchful eye upon him he went through the form of eating, but Mandy was not to be deceived.
“You ain't eatin' nothin',” she said reproachfully as he rose from the table.
“Enough for a man who is doing nothing,” replied Cameron. “What I want is exercise. I think I shall take a walk.”
“Going to church?” she enquired, an eager light springing into her eye.