“I’m going down to the lake to-night, Dave,” she said, “to set a night line and see if I can catch a togue.[1] There’s a full moon, and the lake’ll be worth looking at. Won’t you come along with us?”
“Won’t I, Miranda? Couldn’t think of nothin’ I’d like better!” was the eager response.
“We’ll start soon as ever we get the dishes washed up,” explained the girl. “And you can help us at that—what say, mother?”
“Certainly, Dave can help us,” answered Kirstie, “if you have the nerve to set the likes of him at woman’s work. But I reckon I won’t go with you to-night to the lake. Kroof and Dave’ll be enough to look after you.”
“I’ll look after Dave, more like,” exclaimed Miranda, scornfully, remembering both Wapiti and the panther. “But what’s the matter, mother? Do come. It won’t be the same without you.”
“Seems to me I’m tired to-night, kind of, and I just want to stay at home by the fire and think.”
Miranda sprang up, with concern in her face, and ran round to her mother’s seat.
“Tired, mother!” she cried, scanning her features anxiously. “Who ever heard of people like you and me, who are strong, and live right, being tired? I’m afraid you’re not well, mother; I won’t go one step!”
“Yes, you will, dearie,” answered her mother, and never yet had Miranda rebelled against that firm note in Kirstie’s voice. “I really want to be alone to-night a bit, and think. Dave’s visit has stirred up a lot of old thoughts, and I want to take a look at them. I reckoned they were dead and buried years ago!”
“Are you sure you’re not sick, mother?” went on Miranda, hesitatingly returning to her seat.