“Then, dearie, just let me help.”
“No,––no,––no!”
“But the land should be saved,––at least, as much of it as we can save. It is of the best, and when the real merits of the fruit of this Valley are known, when the markets are opened up for us and transportation facilities are improved, the land will be worth much more than it is now, for the younger orchards will be bearing heavier and heavier year by year. Eileen, we want to hold what we can of your father’s property, unhampered.”
“Oh, yes!––you are terribly logical and convincing, but I won’t love you any more if you get mixed up in this;––it is too, too hopeless.”
“Immovable as Vancouver Island! and yet they talk of frail femininity. Ah, Eileen! as difficult to understand as, as any other lady!”
Eileen sighed, went over to the window and parted the curtains, as she looked out over the peaceful Valley. Phil went to her side.
Up on the hill as they were, overlooking the surrounding country, they almost forgot their troubles under Nature’s hypnotism. The sky overhead was opalescent; the ranges, dotted with grazing cattle and unbroken horses, were bathed in sunshine. Away below them, the little 371 town, with its long Main Street of business houses and its stretch of regular shade trees, drowsed in an adolescent contentment. All around lay farm houses surrounded by fields in cultivation with parallel lines of fruit trees. In the distance, due west between the hills, the blue waters of the Okanagan Lake sparkled in a winding streak which melted into the sky.
Phil put his arm round Eileen and drew her to him.
“And we talked about leaving all this, dearie!”
She looked up at him with moist eyes, and her voice trembled.