No. I wouldn’t take a job from you any more than I’d take anything else.”
“You carry principles to the length of absurdity. Come and get your own job, then. You’re not timid, are you?”
“Not particularly. I’m just contented.”
At that provocation her femininity flared. “Ban,” she cried with exasperation and appeal enchantingly mingled, “aren’t you going to miss me at all when I go?”
“I’ve been trying not to think of that,” he said slowly.
“Well, think of it,” she breathed. “No!” she contradicted herself passionately. “Don’t think of it. I shouldn’t have said that.... I don’t know what is the matter with me to-day, Ban. Perhaps I am fey.” She smiled to him slantwise.
“It’s the air,” he answered judicially. “There’s another storm brewing somewhere or I’m no guesser. More trouble for the schedule.”
“That’s right!” she cried eagerly. “Be the Atkinson and St. Philip station-agent again. Let’s talk about trains. It’s—it’s so reliable.”
“Far from it on this line,” he answered, adopting her light tone. “Particularly if we have more rain. You may become a permanent resident yet.”
Some rods short of the Van Arsdale cabin the trail took a sharp turn amidst the brush. Halfway on the curve Io caught at Banneker’s near rein.