Florence melted. Such delicate consideration was unexpected.
"You must call again while you are in town," she said.
"Thank you, I shall," Ben responded.
Sidwell felt that he too could afford to be generous.
"If there's anything in the way of amusement or otherwise that I can do for you, Mr. Blair, let me know," he said, proffering his address. "I am at your service at any time."
Ben had reached the walk, but he turned. For a moment wherein Florence held her breath he looked steadily at the city man.
"We Western men, Mr. Sidwell," he said at last slowly, "are more or less solitaries. We take our recreation as we do our work, alone. In all probability I shall not have occasion to accept your kindness. But I may call on you before I leave." He bowed to both, and replaced his hat. A "good-night" and he was gone.
Watching the tall figure as it disappeared down the street, Sidwell smiled peculiarly. "Rather a positive person, your friend," he remarked.
Like an echo, Florence took up the word. "Positive!" The small hands pressed tightly together in the speaker's lap. "Positive! You didn't get even a suggestion of him by that. I saw a big prairie fire once. It swept over the country for miles and miles, taking everything clean; and the men fighting it might have been so many children in arms. I always think of it when I think of Ben Blair. They are very much alike."
The smile left Sidwell's face. "One can start a back-fire on the prairie," he said reflectively. "I fancy the same process might work successfully with Blair also."