“I take that real friendly,” said Seth, smiling up into the plain, honest face before him. “Guess I’ll have a pipe and a warm while you’re fixin’ things.”
Somehow Miss Parker found herself retiring to her kitchen again before she had intended it.
During the next half hour the hostess found various excuses for invading the parlor where Seth was engaged in his promised occupation. She generally had some cheery, inconsequent remark to pass. Seth gave her little encouragement, but he was always polite. At last the dinner was served, and, sharp to time, Jimmy Parker returned. He came by himself, and blustered into the warm room bringing with him that brisk atmosphere of the outside cold which, in winter, always makes the inside of a house on the prairie strike one as a perfect haven of comfort. He greeted Seth cordially as he shook the frost from his fur-coat collar, and gently released his moustache from its coating of ice. 212
Seth deferred his business until after dinner. He never liked talking business before womenfolk. And Miss Parker, like most of her sex in the district, was likely to exaggerate the importance of any chance hint about the Indians dropped in her presence. So the boil of silverside and dumplings was discussed to the accompaniment of a casual conversation which was chiefly carried on by the Agent’s sister. At length the two men found themselves alone, and their understanding of each other was exampled by the prompt inquiry of Parker.
“Well?” he questioned. Seth settled himself in his chair and, from force of habit, spread his hands out to the fire.
“We’re finishing our job with white labor,” he said. Then as an afterthought, “Y’ see we want to git things fixed ’fore spring opens.”
The Agent nodded.
“Just so,” he said.
The beads on his moccasins had much interest for Seth at the moment.
“I’d never gamble a pile on Injuns’ labor,” he remarked indifferently. Parker laughed.