Tresler was unfeignedly glad to leave Jake Harnach behind him, but he looked very serious as he and his companion moved on to the house. The result of his meeting with the foreman would come back on him later, he knew, and it was as well that he was prepared. The meeting had been unfortunate, but, judging by what he had heard of Jake in Forks, he must inevitably have crossed the bully sooner or later; Jake himself would have seen to that.
Diane Marbolt paused as she came to the verandah. They had not spoken since their greeting. Now she turned abruptly, and quietly surveyed her guest. Nor was there any rudeness in her look. Tresler felt that he was undergoing a silent cross-examination, and waited, quietly smiling down at her from his superior height.
At last she smiled up at him and nodded.
“Will I do?” he asked.
“I think so.”
It was a curious position, and they both laughed. But in the girl’s manner there was no levity.
“You are not sure? Is there anything wrong about me? My—my dress, for instance?” Tresler laughed again; he had missed the true significance of his companion’s attitude toward him.
Just for a moment the dark little face took on a look of perplexity. Then the pucker of the brows smoothed out, and she smiled demurely as she answered.
“Oh, I see—no,” doubtfully. Then more decidedly, “No. You see, you are a ‘tenderfoot.’ You’ll get over it later on.”
And the last barrier of formality was set aside.