“Here’s Mr. Iredale!” she exclaimed. Then: “So he’s returned home. I’m so glad. One scarcely knows the place without him.”
She dashed out to meet him, and, a moment later, returned ushering him in.
“Mr. George Iredale,” she announced, with mock ceremony. Then she stood aside to allow him to pass, bowing low as he entered the room. She stood for a moment smiling upon the burly figure. She noted how the plain features lit up at the sight of the girl bending over the sewing-machine. Then she gave herself an obvious cue.
“I’ll go and call mother Hephzy,” she said, and retreated hastily to the bake-house.
Iredale moved over to where Prudence was sitting 214 She had ceased work to greet him, but she did not rise from the table. Neche surveyed the intruder, grunted and closed his eyes again. Prudence was half inclined to resent Alice’s sudden departure. Alice was in her confidence; she knew her feelings as regarded George Iredale. She considered her friend’s action was unkind.
“You mustn’t let me disturb you, Prudence,” Iredale said in his low, pleasant voice. “What is this”––fingering the material––“a new fall dress? Wonderful how you can cope with the intricacies of the manufacture of such things. It would be a very sorry day for me if I were left to cut my own coats.” He laughed nervously.
Prudence detected an unusual eagerness in his voice, and something warned her that this man had come over that afternoon to see her alone. She joined in the laugh, but her eyes remained quite serious.
“When did you come back from town?” she asked, after a pause.
“I haven’t been to town. I’ve been across the border. My business took me into Minnesota.”
“Oh, I thought you had been to Winnipeg.” She stooped and caressed the great dog at her feet.