“We shall stay at least a month, if you wish us to,” said Mrs. Blake.
“Two months would be too short!––And the sooner we are over with this uncertainty––Lafe, you’ll do your utmost to help Mr. Blake, won’t you?”
“Yes, indeed; anything I can,” eagerly responded Ashton.
Gowan’s face darkened at sight of the smile with which the girl rewarded the tenderfoot. Yet instead of sulking, he joined in the evening’s entertainment of the guests with a zeal that agreeably surprised everyone. 170 His guitar playing won genuine praise from the Blakes, though both were sophisticated and critical music lovers.
Somewhat earlier than usual he rose to go, with the excuse that he wished to consult Knowles about some business with the owner of the adjoining range. The cowman went out with him, and did not return. An hour later Ashton took reluctant leave of Isobel, and started for the bunkhouse. Half way across he was met by his employer, who stopped before him.
“Everybody turning in, Lafe?”
“Not at my suggestion, though,” replied Ashton.
“Reckon not. Mr. Blake and his lady are old friends of yours, I take it.”
“Mrs. Blake is,” stated Ashton, with a touch of his former arrogance. “We made mud-pies together, in a hundred thousand dollar dooryard.”
“Humph!” grunted Knowles. “And her husband?”