"Jessie's young yet, and maybe that accounts for a heap. But you, Murray, being a man, ought to know when it's food time. I guess it's been waiting a half hour. Come right in, and we'll get on without waiting for Alec. The boy went out with his gun, an' I don't think we'll see him till he's ready."
Jessie's serious eyes had caught her mother's attention. Ailsa Mowbray possessed all a mother's instinct. Her watch over her pretty daughter, though unobtrusive, was never for a moment relaxed. Some day she supposed the child would have to marry. Well, the choice was small enough. It scarcely seemed a thing to concern herself with. But she did. And her feelings and opinions were very decided.
Murray smilingly accepted the blame for their tardiness.
"Guess it's up to me," he said. "You see, Jessie was good enough to let me yarn about the delights of this slice of God's country. Well, when a feller gets handing out his talk that way to a bright girl, who doesn't find she's got a previous engagement elsewhere, he's liable to forget such ordinary things as mere food."
Mrs. Mowbray nodded.
"That's the way of it—sure. Specially when you haven't cooked it," she said, with a smile that robbed her words of all reproach.
She turned to pass within the rambling, log-built house. But at that moment two dogs raced round the angle of the building and fawned up to her, completely ignoring the others.
"Guess Alec's—ready," was Murray's smiling comment.
There was a shadow of irony in the man's words, which made the mother glance up quickly from the dogs she was impartially caressing.
"Yes," she said simply, and without warmth. Her regard though momentary was very direct.