THORNE GIVES ADVICE
It was early in the evening when they drove into sight of the Hunter
homestead, and as they approached it Alison glanced about her with some
curiosity. Long rows of clods out of which rose a tangle of withered
grass tussocks stretched across the foreground. Thorne told her that
this was the breaking, land won from the prairie too late for sowing in
the previous year. Farther on, they skirted another stretch of more
friable and cleaner clods, shattered and mellowed by the frost, and then
they came to a space of charred stubble. Beyond that, a waste of yellow
straw stood almost knee-high, and Thorne said that as the latter had no
value on the prairie it was generally burned off to clear the ground for
the following crop. He added that wheat was usually grown on the same
land for several years without any attempt at fertilization.
Alison, however, knew nothing of farming, and it was the house at which
she gazed with most interest. It stood not far from a broad shallow lake
with a thin birch bluff on one side of it, a commodious two-storied
building with a wide veranda. It was apparently built of wood, but its
severity of outline was relieved by gaily picked-out scroll-work and
lattice shutters; and in front of the entrance somebody had attempted to
make a garden. The stables and barns behind it were new frame buildings,
and there were wire fences stretching back from these. After her
experience of the last few days, Alison had not expected to see anything
like it in western Canada.
Then she began to wonder whether Florence Hunter's life in the West had
made much change in her. She recollected her as a pretty but rather
pallid girl, with a manner a little too suggestive of self-confidence,
and a look of calculating tenacity in her eyes. Alison had continued to
treat her as a friend after she had incurred the hostility of Mrs.
Leigh, but she realized that it was chiefly Florence's courage and
resourcefulness that had impressed her, and not her other qualities. She
had not seen Florence's husband.
A few minutes later Thorne drove up to the front of the house, and
Alison saw a woman, who hitherto had been hidden by one of the pillars,
lying in a canvas chair on the veranda with a book in her hand. The
sunlight that streamed in upon her called up fiery gleams in her red
hair and shimmered on her long dress of soft, filmy green. Alison
promptly decided that the latter had come from New York or Montreal.
There was no doubt that Florence Hunter's appearance was striking,
though her expression even in repose seemed to indicate a dissatisfied,
exacting temperament. At length she heard the rattle of wheels, for she
rose.
"Alison, by all that's wonderful!" she cried.
There was astonishment in the exclamation, but Alison could not convince
herself that there was any great pleasure, and it was with a certain
sense of constraint that she permitted Thorne to help her down. He
walked with her up to the veranda, and acknowledged Mrs. Hunter's casual
greeting by lifting his hat.
"Sit down," said the latter to Alison, pointing to another chair. "Where
have you sprung from?"
"From Winnipeg. I came out to earn my living, and nobody seemed to want
me there."
Florence laughed.
"You earn your living! It's clear that something very extraordinary must
have happened; but we'll talk of that after supper. So you decided to
come to me?"
It was, Alison realized, merely a question and nothing more.
"I'm afraid I was a little presumptuous," she replied. "There is, of
course, no reason why you should have me."
Her companion looked at her with a curious smile.
"You are still in the habit of saying things of that kind? I suppose it
runs in the family."
Alison winced, for she remembered that her mother could on occasion be
painfully rude.
"You haven't said anything to convince me that I was wrong."
"Was it necessary?" Florence asked languidly. "I was never very
effusive, as you ought to know. Of course, you'll stay here as long as
it pleases you."
The invitation was clear enough, but there was no warmth in it; and
Alison was relieved when a man came up the steps. He was rather short in
stature, and there was nothing striking in his appearance. He had a
quiet brown face and very brown hands, and he had evidently been
working, for he wore long boots, a coarse blue shirt, and blue duck
overalls. He shook hands with Thorne cordially, and then turned toward
Alison.
"My husband," said Florence. "Miss Leigh, Elcot; I used to know her in
England. She has just arrived."
Alison noticed that Hunter favored her with a glance of grave scrutiny,
but he did not seem in the least astonished, nor did he glance at his
wife. This indicated that he was in the habit of accepting without
question anything that the latter did. Then he held out his hand.
"I'm very glad to see you, and we'll try to make you comfortable," he
said with a smile which softened the girl's heart toward him. Then he
turned to his wife.
"Is supper ready? I want to haul in another load of wood before it's
dark."
"It should have been ready now. I don't know what they're doing inside,"
was the careless reply.
It occurred to Alison that her hostess might have gone to see, but she
was half annoyed with Thorne when she noticed his badly dissembled grin.
Then Hunter inquired if she had had a comfortable journey.
"Not very," she answered. "You see, I traveled Colonist."
"How dreadful!" Florence exclaimed.
Her husband smiled at Alison.
"It depends," he said. "It's good enough if you can wait until after the
steamboat train. I used to travel that way myself once upon a time; I
had to do it then."
"Elcot," his wife explained, "is one of the most economically minded men
living. He grudges every dollar unless it's for new implements."
Hunter did not contradict her. He and Thorne left the veranda, and soon
after they returned from leading the team to the stable, a trim maid
appeared to announce that supper was ready. Hunter led Alison into a big
and very simply furnished room. A long table ran down one side, and half
a dozen men attired much as Hunter was took their places about the
uncovered lower half of it. There was a cloth on the upper portion, with
a gap of several feet between its margin and the nearest of the
teamsters' seats. It occurred to Alison, who had been told that the
hired man generally ate with his employer on the prairie, that this
compromise was rather pitiful, though she did not know that Hunter had
once or twice had words with his wife on the question. As the meal,
which was bountiful, proceeded, he now and then spoke to the men; but
Florence confined her attention to Alison, until at length she addressed
Thorne.
"To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you?" she inquired.
"In the first place, I came to bring Miss Leigh; she hired me."
Thorne laid a very slight stress upon the hired. It seemed to indicate
that he recognized his station in relation to a guest of the house, and
Alison felt a little uncomfortable. For one thing, though that did not
quite account for her uneasiness, she remembered that she had not paid
him.
"Then," he added, "I called in the usual course of business. I have for
disposal a few tablets of very excellent English soap, a case of
peach-bloom cosmetic, and one or two other requisites of the kind."
Alison regretted that she laughed, but she felt that Florence's attitude
toward the man had rendered the thrust admissible, and she saw a faint
smile in Hunter's eyes. Her hostess, however, was equal to the occasion.
"If they're not as rubbishy as usual, I'll buy a few things and give
them to the maids. Is that the whole of your stock?"
"I've a box of new gramophone records."
Florence looked at her husband, and Alison fancied that she had noticed
and meant to punish him for his smile.
"You'll buy them, Elcot."
"You haven't tried the other lot," Hunter protested. "Besides, the
instrument seemed to have contracted bronchitis when I last had it out."
"It will do to amuse the boys when the nights get dark," replied
Florence. Then she turned to Alison. "One could hardly get a dollar out
of him with a lever."
"Doesn't it depend on the kind of lever you use?" Alison asked.
Thorne grinned, but Florence answered unhesitatingly.
"Oh, in the case of the average man it doesn't matter, so long as it's
strong enough and you have a fulcrum. We'll admit that the type can be
generous, but it's only when it throws a reflected luster on themselves.
Otherwise judicious pressure is necessary."
"Are you going to camp with us to-night?" Hunter asked Thorne.
"No," answered the latter. "I have some business at the Bluff, and I
want to get off again early to-morrow."
In a few more minutes the teamsters rose, and Hunter, making excuses to
Alison, went out with them. Florence looked after them, and then turned
to the girl with a disdainful lifting of her brows.
"Cormorants," she commented. "They've been very slow to-night. Eight
minutes is about their usual limit. I don't think they even look at
their food--it just goes down. I have once or twice suggested to Elcot
that he is wasting his money by giving them the things he does. It's
difficult, though, to make him listen to reason."
Alison said nothing, and after a while Florence rose.
"We'll have a talk on the veranda while they clear away."
She pointed to a chair when they reached the veranda, and then sank
languidly into one close by.
"Tell me all about it," she said.
It was not a pleasant task to Alison, for it entailed the mention of her
father's death and an account of the difficulties that had followed, but
she spoke for a few minutes, and her companion casually expressed her
sympathy.
"I can understand why you came out," she added with a bitter laugh.
"When I first met you I was earning just enough to keep me on the border
line between respectability and--the other thing--that is by the
exercise of the most unpleasant self-denial. What I should have done
without the extra twelve pounds your mother's guild paid me for playing
the piano twice a week at the working girls' club I don't like to think.
That is why I made no complaint when they added to my duties the
teaching of a class on another evening and the collecting of the
subscriptions to the sewing society. Your mother, I heard, informed the
committee that in her opinion twelve pounds was a good deal too much,
and I believe she added that such a rate of payment was apt to make a
young woman of my class far too independent."
Alison's cheeks burned, for she knew that Florence had been correctly
informed; but she had no thought of mentioning that she had
expostulated with her mother on the subject.
"Well," said Florence, "it was not your fault, and I'm sorry for you. I
suppose you had--difficulties--with some of your employers? No doubt one
or two of them tried to make love to you?"
Alison made a little gesture of disgust.
"Oh," laughed Florence, "I know. You probably flared out at the
offender, and either got your work found fault with or lost your
situation. I didn't. After all, a smile costs nothing, though it's a
little difficult now and then. In my case, it led to shorter hours,
higher wages, an occasional Saturday afternoon trip to the country. I
got what I could, and in due time it was generally easy to turn round
upon and get rid of the provider. Still, it was just a little
humiliating with a certain type of man, and it was a relief when Elcot
took me out of it. I try to remember that I owe him that when he gets
unusually wearisome, though one must do him the justice to admit that he
never refers to it."
Alison sat silent, shrinking from her companion. She had faced a good
many unpleasant things during the past few years, but they had wrought
but little change in her nature. The part her hostess had played would
have been a wholly hateful one to her.
"Where did you come across Thorne?" Florence asked.
Alison told her, and she looked thoughtful.
"When was that? I supposed you had come straight from the station."
"Four days ago," answered Alison unhesitatingly, though she would have
much preferred not to mention it.
"Four days! And you have been driving round the country since then with
Thorne?"
Alison felt her face grow hot, but her answer was clear and sharp.
"Of course; I couldn't help it. We should have been here earlier, only a
horse went lame. In any case, after what you have told me, I cannot see
why you should adopt that tone."
Florence raised her brows.
"My dear," she said, "I was a working woman of no account in England
when I first met you--but things are rather different now. It doesn't
exactly please me that a guest of mine should indulge in an escapade of
this description. Doesn't it strike you as hardly fitting?"
Hunter, who had come up the steps unobserved, stopped beside them just
then.
"Rubbish!" he said curtly. "It was unavoidable. I've had a talk with
Leslie; he told me exactly what delayed him."
Florence waved her hand.
"Oh," she replied, "let it go at that. I couldn't resist the temptation
of sticking a pin or two into Alison. What has brought you back?"
"We broke the wagon pole. It didn't seem worth while to put in a new one
to-night."
He moved away and left them, and Alison turned to her companion.
"Did he mean Mr. Thorne by Leslie?"
"Of course."
"But isn't his name Maverick?"
"Did you call him that?"
"I can't remember, though I suppose I must have done so. Some of the
others certainly did."
Florence looked amused.
"I suppose you haven't an idea what a maverick is?"
Alison said that she had none at all, and her companion proceeded to
inform her.
"It's a steer that won't feed and follow tamely with the herd, but goes
off or gets wild and smashes things, and generally does what's least
desirable. As you have spent some days with him you will no doubt
understand why they have fixed the name on Thorne."
Alison glanced at her with a sparkle in her eyes.
"I can only say this. I have met a few men one could look up to--after
all, there are good people in the world--but I haven't yet come across
one who showed more tact and considerate thoughtfulness than Maverick
Thorne."
Florence was evidently amused at this--indeed, to be sardonically amused
at something seemed her favorite pose.
"I shouldn't like to disturb that kind of optimism--and here he is; I'll
leave you to talk to him. As it happens, Elcot looks rather grumpy, and
the mail-carrier has just brought out a sheaf of my bills from Winnipeg
which he hasn't seen yet."
She sailed away with a rustle of elaborate draperies, and Thorne sat
down.
"I'm going on to the bluff in half an hour," he informed her.
Alison was conscious of a certain hesitation, but there was something to
be said.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked.
"Half a dollar."
Alison flushed.
"Why didn't you say four or five dollars?"
"Since you evidently mean to insist on an answer, there are several
reasons for my modesty. For one thing, you would have to borrow the
money from Mrs. Hunter, which I don't think you would like to do. For
another, if you were a Canadian I'd say--nothing--but as you're not used
to the country yet you wouldn't care to accept a favor from a stranger."
"But it would be a favor in any case."
"Then you can get rid of the obligation by giving me half a dollar."
The girl looked at him sharply as she laid the silver coin in his hand,
but he met her gaze with a whimsical smile.
"Thank you," he said. "I suppose you are going back to Mrs. Farquhar?"
"Yes," replied Alison impulsively. "I believe I am; but I may wait for a
few days."
"I think you're wise. You wouldn't find things very pleasant here."
"Why?"
"If you'll permit me to mention it, you're too pretty."
Alison straightened herself suddenly in her chair.
"You don't like Mrs. Hunter, but does that justify you in saying what
you have? You can't mean that she would be--jealous?"
"That's exactly what I do mean."
He saw the angry color mantle in the face of the girl, and raised his
hand in expostulation.
"Wait a little; I want to explain. First of all, she wouldn't have the
slightest cause for jealousy. You're not the kind to give her one, and
Elcot Hunter is one of the best and straightest men I know. In fact,
that's partly what is troubling me."
"Why should it trouble you?" Alison interrupted.
Thorne appeared to reflect, and, indignant with his presumption as she
was, the girl admitted that he did it very well.
"If you urge me for a precise answer, I'm afraid I'll have to confess
that I don't quite know. Anyway, because Hunter is the sort of man I
have described, he'd try to make things pleasant for you, and there's no
doubt that his wife would resent it. Whether she's fond of him at all,
or not, I naturally can't say, but she expects him to be entirely at her
beck and call, and I don't think she'd tolerate any little courtesies he
might show you."
Alison sat silent for a moment or two when he stopped, looking at him
with perplexed eyes, though she felt that he was right.
"It's curious, isn't it?" she said at length. "Florence must have had a
very unpleasant time in England, where she had to practise the strictest
self-denial. One would have thought it would have made her content and
compassionate now that she has everything that she could wish for."
"No," responded Thorne, "in a way, it's natural. That kind of life often
has the opposite effect. Those who lead it have so much to put up with
that if once they escape it makes them determined never even to
contemplate doing the least thing they don't like again."
"Oh," declared Alison impulsively, "I shouldn't care to think that."
"Well," said Thorne, with unmoved gravity, "I don't know whether you
have had as much to face as you say that she has, though one or two
things seem to suggest it, but it certainly hasn't spoiled you."
Then he rose.
"As I want to reach the bluff to-night, I'll get my team harnessed."
Alison watched him go down the steps with a somewhat perplexing sense of
regret. She had met the man only four days ago, but she felt that she
was parting from a friend.
A few minutes later Florence Hunter called her into the house; and she
stayed with her a week before she went to Mrs. Farquhar. She admitted
that Florence had given her no particular cause for leaving, but she at
least made no objections when Alison acquainted her with her decision.