“I will take care of her,” said Larry, “but I won't promise that we won't race. Jane would not stand for that, you know. Besides she is riding Ginger, and Ginger is not exactly like old Polly. But never fear, we shall have a good ride, Mother,” he added, waving his hand gaily as they rode away, taking the coolee trail to the timber lot.
Larry was in high spirits. He talked of his work for the winter. He was hoping great things from this his last year in college. For the first time in his university career he would be able to give the full term to study. He would be a couple of weeks late on account of Kathleen's marriage, but he would soon make that up. He had his work well in hand and this year he meant to do something worth while. “I should like to take that medal home to Mother,” he said with a laugh. “I just fancy I see her face. She would try awfully hard not to seem proud, but she would just be running over with it.” Jane gave, as ever, a sympathetic hearing but she had little to say, even less than was usual with her. Her smile, however, was as quick and as bright as ever, and Larry chattered on beside her apparently unaware of her silence. Up the coolee and through the woods and back by the dump their trail led them. On the way home they passed the Switzer house.
“Have you seen Mr. Switzer?” said Jane.
“No, by Jove, he hasn't been near us for a week, has he?” replied Larry.
“Poor man, I feel so sorry for him,” said Jane.
“Oh, he will be all right. He is busy with his work. He is awfully keen about that mine of his, and once the thing is over—after Kathleen is married, I mean—it will be different.”
Jane rode on in silence for some distance. Then she said,
“I wonder how much you know about it, Larry. I don't think you know the very least bit.”
“Well, perhaps not,” said Larry cheerfully, “but they always get over it.”
“Oh, do they?” said Jane. “I wonder.”