Charnock hesitated about meeting Sadie at breakfast, but found her calm and apparently good-humored. He felt embarrassed and his head ached, but she made him some strong coffee in a way he liked. Sadie did not often sulk, and he was grateful because she said nothing about what had happened on the previous night. Indeed, he was on the point of telling her so, but her careless manner discouraged him and he resolved instead that he would stop gambling and keep as steady as he could. After all, Sadie was really treating him well; she might, for example, have stopped his getting liquor. He meant to brace up and give her no more trouble.
He kept his resolve for a fortnight, and then, one morning, a man brought him a note from Wilkinson, asking him to drive over to the range. Charnock told the man he could not go, but presently put down his pen and looked out of the open window of the office of the store. The last of the snow had vanished some time since, and round white clouds drifted across the sky. Flying shadows streaked the wide plain, which gleamed like silver in the sunshine, and the bleached grass rolled in long waves before the breeze. There was something strangely exhilarating in the air and the dusty office smelt of salt-pork and cheese. It was a glorious day for a drive, he need not stay long at Wilkinson's, and the team needed exercise. Moreover, Sadie was not about and would not come home until afternoon; he might get back before her. He hesitated for a few minutes and then sent an order to the stable.
At midnight he had not returned, and Sadie sat in the office at the hotel, making futile efforts to fix her attention on a newspaper. The guests had gone to bed and the building was very quiet, but she had kept the ostler up. He might be needed and she could trust him not to talk.
At length she heard the sound she listened for. A beat of hoofs and rattle of wheels came down the street. It was their team, she knew their trot, but she wondered anxiously whether Bob was driving. When the rig stopped she went to the door, where the ostler stood with a lantern, and caught her breath as Wilkinson got down. There was nobody else on the seat of the light wagon, and Charnock had set off with a different rig.
“Where's Bob?” she asked in a strained voice.
“We put him inside,” said Wilkinson. “He wasn't quite able to sit up. I'd have kept him all night only that I reckoned you might be scared.”
Sadie, putting her foot on the wheel when the ostler held up the light, saw Charnock lying on a bundle of sacks. He was in a drunken stupor.
“Help Bill bring him, in,” she said with stony calm.
Wilkinson and the other lifted the unconscious man, and staggering along a passage, awkwardly climbed the stairs. They put him on his bed and were going out when Sadie stopped them.
“Thank you, Bill; hold the team for a few minutes,” she said and turned to Wilkinson. “I want you to wait in the office.”
Then she shut the door, and after unfastening Charnock's collar and vest stood looking at him for a minute or two. He had not wakened, but she had seen him like this before and was not alarmed. His face was flushed and the veins on his forehead were prominent; his clothes were crumpled and sprinkled with bits of hay. Sadie studied him with a feeling of helplessness that changed to contemptuous pity. Her romantic dreams and ambitions had vanished and left her this——
As she turned away her mood changed again. After all, he was her husband and she had schemed to marry him. She was honest with herself about this and admitted that Bob had not really loved her much. But he needed her and she must not fail him. There was some comfort in remembering that he had sought no other woman; her rivals were cards and liquor, and she did not mean that they should win. Obeying a sudden impulse, she turned back and kissed his hot face, and then, noting the smell of whisky, flushed and went out with a firm step.
When she entered the office, however, her face was hard and white. She did not sit down, but leaned against a desk opposite Wilkinson.
“Why did you ask Bob out to the range?”
Wilkinson did not like her look. It hinted that she was in a dangerous mood, but he answered good-humoredly: “I thought he wanted a change. You hold him too tight, Mrs. Charnock. Bob won't stand for being kept busy indoors all day; he won't make a clerk.”
“He won't,” said Sadie. “I'm beginning to see it now. But you don't care a straw for Bob. You wanted a pick on me because I made you cut out your game that night.”
“No,” said Wilkinson, with a gesture of protest. “I certainly thought you were too smart, although it was not my business. Anyhow, if you let him have a quiet game with his friends at home—”
“Pshaw! I know you, Jake Wilkinson, better than Bob does. You meant to make him drunk this evening and empty his wallet, and I guess you didn't find it hard.”
Wilkinson's face got red, but he saw he would gain nothing by denial. Besides, there was a matter he was anxious about.
“It wasn't hard to empty his wallet, because he had only a few small bills.”
“Yes; I fixed that. How much did you win from him when he was drunk?”
“He got drunk afterwards,” Wilkinson objected. “Then I didn't win it all; there were three or four others.”
Sadie smiled rather grimly. “How much?”
She got a jar when Wilkinson told her, but she fixed him with steady eyes.
“You knew what he had in his wallet, but let him go on? You thought Keller's would stand for the debt?”
“Yes,” said Wilkinson, with some alarm; “we certainly thought so.”
“Very well. Keller's makes good. Take the pen and right out a bill like this—R. Charnock, debtor in losses on a card game.”
“You know it's never done.”
“It's going to be done now, or you won't get your cheque. I know what I'm up against in you and your gang.”
Wilkinson hesitated, but he needed the money and made out the bill. After examining it, Sadie wrote a cheque.
“I've paid you once, for Keller's sake, but you had better stop the card games after this. Bob's not my partner in the business, and no more of my dollars will go on gambling.”
“Ah!” said Wilkinson sharply, “you're smarter than I thought!”
Sadie gave him a searching glance and he noted an ominous tenseness in her pose and her drawn-back lips. He said afterwards that she looked like a wild cat.
“Anyhow, I think I have you fixed. There's nothing doing in making Bob drunk again, but you had better understand what's going to happen if you try. The next time you drive over to the settlement after my husband I'll whip you in the street with a riding quirt.”
Wilkinson put the cheque in his pocket and picked up his hat.
“On the whole, I guess I'd better not risk it,” he said and went out.
Sadie let him go, and then went limply upstairs. She felt worn out and her brain was dull. She could not think, and a problem that demanded solving must wait until the morning. After looking into the room where Charnock lay and seeing that he was sleeping heavily, she went to bed.
Next morning she shut herself in the office at the store and gave the clerks strict orders that she was not to be disturbed. Opening a drawer, she took out a rough balance sheet, which showed that the business was profitable and expanding fast. Things were going very well, in spite of Bob's extravagance, and she thought she had prevented his wasting any more money. In three or four years she could sell the hotel and store for a large sum and, as she thought of it, give herself a chance.
She was young, clever, and attractive, and had recently tried to cultivate her mind. It was laborious work and she had not much time, but the clergyman of the little Episcopal church gave her some guidance and she made progress. For one thing, she was beginning to talk like Bob and thought he noticed this, although she had not told him about her studies. She meant to be ready to take her part in a wider and brighter life when she left the settlement. Knowing little about large towns, she exaggerated the pleasures they could offer. Montreal, for example, was a city of delight. She had been there twice and had seen the Ice Palace glitter against the frosty sky, the covered skating rinks, the jingling sleighs, and the toboggans rushing down the long, white slides. Then she remembered afternoon drives in summer on the wooded slopes of the Mountain, and evenings spent among the garish splendors of Dominion Park, where myriads of lights threw their colored reflections upon the river. Since then, however, her taste had got refined, and she now admitted that if she lived at Montreal it might be better to cut out Dominion Park.
But she pulled herself up. It looked as if these delights were not for her. She could enjoy them, if she wanted, in a few years' time, but the risk was great. Bob might go to pieces while she earned the money that would open the gate of fairyland. Although she had checked the pace a little, he was going the wrong way fast. Sadie knitted her dark brows as she nerved herself to make a momentous choice.
On the one hand there was everything she longed for; on the other much that she disliked—monotonous work, the loneliness of the frozen prairie in the bitter winter, the society, at very long intervals, of farmers who talked about nothing but their crops, and the unslackening strain of activity in the hot summer. Sadie thought of it with shrinking; she would soon get old and faded, and Bob, for whose sake she had done so, might turn from her. Yet there was danger for him if they stayed at the settlement. He had too many friends and whisky was always about. She must save him from the constant temptation and must do so now.
For all that, she struggled. There were specious arguments for taking the other course. Bob had failed as a farmer and would certainly fail again if left to himself; but farming was the only occupation on the lonely prairie. Loneliness was essential, because he must be kept away from the settlements. But she saw the weak point in this reasoning, because Bob need not be left to himself. She would, so to speak, stand over him and see he did his work. Well, it looked as if she must let her ambitions go, and she got up, straightening her body with a little resolute jerk.
“Tell the boss I want him,” she said to the clerk.
Charnock came in, looking haggard and somewhat ashamed, and Sadie knew she had made the right choice when he sat down where the light touched his face. For a moment he blinked and frowned.
“I wish you'd pull down that blind,” he said. “The sun's in my eyes, and I can't get round the desk.”
Sadie did so, and then silently gave him Wilkinson's bill. He gazed at the paper with surprise, and colored.
“I'd no idea I lost so much. Why did you pay him?”
“Because you can't,” said Sadie. “He thought you had a share in the business when he risked his dollars.”
“I suppose that means you told him I wasn't your partner?”
“It does.”
“I see,” said Charnock, with some dryness. “You thought he'd leave me alone if he knew I wasn't worth powder and shot? Well, I believe it's very possible.” Then he paused and smiled. “I can imagine his astonishment when you asked for a bill, and must admit that you're a sport. All the same, it's humiliating to have my friends told you don't trust me with money.”
“The trouble is I can't trust you. Now you listen, Bob. This tanking and gambling has got to be stopped.”
“I'm afraid I've given you some bother,” Charnock answered penitently. “For all that, I'm not so bad as I was. In fact, I really think I'm steadying down by degrees, and since you have paid my debts I don't mind promising—”
“By degrees won't do; you have got to stop right off. Besides, you know how much your promises are worth.”
Charnock colored. “That's rather cruel, Sadie, but I suppose it's deserved.”
“I don't mean what you think; not your promise to Miss Dalton,” Sadie answered with some embarrassment. “You told me you wouldn't drive over to Wilkinson's again, and the first time I wasn't about you went. Very well. Since I can't trust you round the settlement, we're going to quit. I've decided to sell out the business as soon as I can get the price I want.”
“Sell the store and hotel!” Charnock exclaimed. “I suppose you know you'd get three or four times as much if you held on for a few years.”
“That's so. But what's going to happen to you while I wait?”
Charnock turned his head for a moment, and then looked up with a contrite air.
“By George, Sadie, you are fine! But I can't allow this sacrifice.”
“You won't be asked,” Sadie rejoined with forced quietness. She was moved by Charnock's exclamation, but durst not trust him or herself. There was a risk of his persuading her to abandon the plan if he knew how deeply she was stirred.
“Well,” he said, “what do you propose to do?”
“Take a farm far enough from town to make it hard for you to drive in and out. Donaldson's place would suit; he quits in the fall, you know, and we hold his mortgage.”
Charnock got up and walked about the floor. Then he stopped opposite his wife.
“You mean well, Sadie, and you're very generous,” he said with some emotion. “Still you ought to see the plan won't work. I had a good farm and made a horrible mess of things.”
“You won't do that now. I'll be there,” Sadie rejoined.
Charnock did not answer, but gave her a curious look, and she pondered for a moment or two. He was obviously moved, but one could not tell how far his emotions went, and she knew he did not want to listen. She understood her husband and knew he sometimes deceived himself.
“No!” He resumed; “it's too big a sacrifice! You like people about you and would see nobody but me and the hired man, while I admit I'm enough to jar a woman's nerves. Then think of the work; the manual work. You couldn't live as the bachelors live among dust and dirt, and it's a big undertaking to keep a homestead clean when you can't get proper help. Besides, there's the baking, cooking, and washing, while you have done nothing but superintend. I'd hate to see you worn and tired, and you know you're not so patient then. I get slack if things go wrong, and if I slouched about, brooding, when I ought to be at work, it would make you worse.”
Sadie smiled. “That's very nice, Bob; but how much are you thinking about me and how much about yourself?”
“To tell the truth, I don't know,” Charnock replied with naïve honesty. “Anyhow, I am thinking about you.”
“That is what I like, but there's no use in talking. Since I can make this business go I can run a farm, and see no other way. My plan's made and I'm going to put it over.”
Charnock was silent for some moments and then turned to her with a look in his face she had not seen.
“I don't want to farm, but if you can stand it for my sake, I must try. You will need some patience, Sadie—I may break out at times if the strain gets too hard. One can't help running away when one is something of a cur. But I'll come back, ashamed and sorry, and pitch in again. Since you mean to stand by me, perhaps I'll win out in the end.”
Bending down suddenly, he kissed her and then went to the door. She heard it shut, and sat still, but her eyes filled with tears. Bob had not promised much, but she thought he meant to keep his word now, and doubts that had troubled her melted away. She did not grudge the sacrifice she had made, for a ray of hope had begun to shine. It was, however, characteristic that after musing for a minute or two she took out some notepaper and began to write. Since the business must be sold, there was nothing to be gained by delay, and she gave a Winnipeg agent clear instructions. Then she went out and hid her annoyance when she saw Charnock sitting languidly on the hotel veranda.
“Has Wilkinson sent back our rig?” she asked.
“He has, but the team has done enough. Where are you going?”
“To look at Donaldson's farm. I want you to come along. Go across and ask Martin if he'll let you have his team.”
Charnock got up with a resigned shrug. “You are a hustler, Sadie. It's not many minutes since you decided about the thing.”
“I don't see what I'd get by waiting, and you may as well make up your mind that you're going to hustle, too. Now get busy and go for Martin's team.”
It was a bright afternoon and white-edged clouds rolled across the sky before a fresh north-west wind when Helen Festing rode up to a birch bluff on the prairie. The trees made a musical rustling as they tossed their branches, tufted with opening leaves. The sweep of white grass was checkered by patches of green that gleamed when the light touched them and faded as the shadows swept across the plain. There was something strangely invigorating in the air, but when she reached the bluff Helen pulled up her horse and looked about.
She missed the soft blue haze that mellowed the landscape among the English hills. Every feature was sharp and the colors were vivid; ocher, green, and silver gleaming with light. Distant bluffs stood out with sharp distinctness. She thought the new country was like its inhabitants; they were marked by a certain primitive vigor and their character was clearly defined. Neither the land nor the people had been tamed by cultivation yet. One missed the delicate half-tones on the prairie, but one heard and thrilled to the ringing note of endeavor.
When she looked west the land was empty to the horizon, and a flock of big sand-hill cranes planed down the wind. An animal she thought was an antelope moved swiftly through the waves of rippling grass. When she turned east she saw a plume of black smoke roll across the sky and the tops of three elevators above the edge of the plain. It was a portent, a warning of momentous change, in which she and her husband must play their part. What that part would be she could not tell, but the curtain was going up, and on the whole she approved the stage and scenery.
Helen had been some time in Canada and did not feel daunted. The sunshine and boisterous winds were bracing; one felt optimistic on the high plains, and the wide outlook gave a sense of freedom. She had many duties, but did not find them burdensome, or feel the strain of domestic labor she had been warned about. For one thing, her money had enabled Festing to arrange his household better than he had expected and hire useful help.
She took a rough trail through the bluff, picking her way among the holes and rotting stumps, and as she rode out the horse plunged. After calming the startled animal she saw a dirty handkerchief snapping in the wind at the top of a stick. Close by a team cropped the grass and the end of a big plow projected from the back of a wagon. There seemed to be nobody about, but after riding on a few yards she saw a man lying among some bushes with a pipe in his mouth. He looked half asleep, but got up as she advanced, and she stopped her horse with a jerk and tried to preserve her calm. Charnock stood looking at her with a half-embarrassed smile.
“Bob!” she exclaimed. “I didn't think I'd ever meet you.”
“I hope it wasn't a shock, and we were bound to meet sooner or later. The distance between our homesteads isn't great.”
Helen had heard where his homestead was. Indeed, Festing had told her that if he had known Charnock was coming to Donaldson's farm, he would have located farther off. She would sooner have avoided the meeting, but since it had happened, she must not cut it too short.
“But what is the handkerchief for?” she asked. “And why were you lying there?”
“It's a signal of distress. Another trail crosses the rise a mile off, and I was waiting in the hope that somebody might come along.”
Helen now noted that a wheel of the wagon leaned to one side, and he remarked her glance.
“The patent bush has got loose in the hub,” he resumed. “I took the pin out and then saw I might have trouble if the wheel came off. It has been threatening to play this trick for some time.”
“Then why didn't you put the bush right before you started?”
“I don't know. I expect you think it's typical.”
Helen laughed. Bob was taking the proper line, and she studied him with curiosity. He looked older than she thought, but remembering Festing's hints, she did not see the mark of dissipation she had expected. Indeed, Charnock, having spent a sober month or two under Sadie's strict supervision, looked very well. His face was brown, his eyes twinkled, and his figure was athletic. He did not seem to need her pity, but she felt compassionate. After all, she had loved him and he had married a girl from a bar.
“But where were you taking the plow?” she asked.
“To the smith's; one of the free preemptors has a forge some distance off, and if I'm lucky, I may find him at home.”
“You won't find him at home if you stop here.”
“That's obvious,” said Charnock. “Still, you see, the plow's too heavy for me to lift out. Unless I do get it out, I can't try to put the wheel right.”
“Then why not take it to pieces?”
“The trouble is you need a bent spanner to get at some of the bolts.”
“They give you spanners with the plows, and there's a box on the frame to put them in. I've seen Stephen use the things.”
“Just so,” Charnock agreed. “Stephen's methodical, but when I want my spanner it isn't in the box.”
“You never were very careful,” Helen remarked.
“I don't know if there's much comfort in feeling that I've paid for my neglect.”
Helen smiled; she was not going to be sentimental. “If you mean that you lost the spanner, you don't seem to have suffered much. I think you were asleep when I rode up. But I was surprised to hear you had begun to farm again. Do you like it? And how are you getting on?”
“I like a number of things better, but that's not allowed to make much difference. Sadie has decided that farming is good for me. However, I am making some progress, though as you know my temperament, I'll admit that I'm being firmly helped along.”
There was silence for a few moments and Helen pondered. Bob had generally been tactful and she thought his humor was rather brave. He, no doubt, imagined she would soon learn all about his affairs and meant to make the best of things.
In the meantime, Charnock quietly studied her. She looked very fresh and prettier than he thought. Although she had not ridden much in England, he noted the grace and confidence with which she managed the spirited range horse. For all that, he was rather surprised by his sensations. He had expected to feel some embarrassment and sentimental tenderness when they met, but she left him cold; his pulse had not quickened a beat. Still it would be good for Sadie to know Helen, who could teach her much, and she unconsciously gave him a lead.
“Well,” she said, “I must get home. I shall, no doubt, see you now and then.”
“Not often, if you leave it to accident,” he replied with a smile. “If you like to arrange the thing, there's a nice point of etiquette. You occupied your homestead before we came to ours, but you see we were on the prairie first. Anyhow, I'd be glad if you will let me bring Sadie over.”
Helen thought he was going too far. She did not want to arrange for a meeting and would sooner not receive his wife. After all, the girl had supplanted her. Still she was curious and could not refuse.
“I'm often busy and daresay Mrs. Charnock is, while Stephen does not stop work until late. However, if you like to take your chance——”
“Thank you,” said Charnock; “we'll take the risk of finding you not at home. Now perhaps it wouldn't be much trouble if you told Jasper I'm in difficulties. You'll see his place when you cross the ravine near the bluff.”
Helen rode away, but when she saw Jasper's farm it was a mile off the trail and she had to cross a broken sandy belt. For all that, she smiled as she made the round. It was typical of Bob to send her. He might have tethered his horses and walked the distance, but he had a talent for leaving to somebody else the things he ought to do.
After supper she sat on the veranda, while Festing leaned against the rails. The house was built of ship-lap boards, with a roof of cedar shingles, and wooden pillars supporting the projecting eaves. It had been improved and made comfortable with Helen's money, and with the land about it, registered as belonging to her. Festing had insisted on this, rather against her will, because she had meant to make it a gift to him. The wind, as usual at sunset, had dropped, and clear green sky, touched with dull red on the horizon, overhung the plain. The air was cold and bracing; sound carried far, and the musical chime of cowbells came from a distant bluff. There were not many cattle in the neighborhood, but the Government was trying to encourage stock-raising and had begun to build creameries.
Helen meditatively studied her husband. Festing had been plowing since sunrise and looked tired. Something had gone wrong with his gasoline tractor, and she knew he had spent two or three hours finding out the fault. This had annoyed him, because time was valuable and he was impatient of delay. Helen approved his industry and the stubborn perseverance that led to his overcoming many obstacles, but sometimes thought he took things too hard and exaggerated their importance. Now as he leaned against the balustrade he had the physical grace of a well-trained athlete, but she thought his look was fretful and his mind too much occupied.
“I met Bob by the long bluff as I rode home,” she said.
Festing looked up sharply. “Well, I suppose you were bound to meet him before long. What was he doing at the bluff?”
“Waiting for somebody to help him with his wagon,” Helen answered with a laugh. “A wheel was coming off.”
“That was like Bob. He has a rooted objection to helping himself when it means an effort.”
“For all that, you were a friend of his.”
“I'm not his friend now. I've done with the fellow.”
“It's rather awkward,” Helen remarked thoughtfully. “He asked if he might bring his wife over, and although I wasn't very gracious, I could not refuse.”
“Oh, well, it doesn't matter. As I won't have a minute until the sowing is finished, I'll be out when he comes. If he stayed with his work just now, it would be better for him.”
Helen was silent for a moment. Stephen was made of much finer stuff than Bob, but he had not the latter's graceful humor and his curtness jarred.
“There's no reason you should resume your friendship if you don't like,” she said. “All the same, I think you ought to be polite to my guests.”
“I can't pretend. The house is yours, but I don't want the fellow here.”
“But why do you dislike him so much?”
“I don't think you need ask me that. It's dangerous ground, but you see——”
“I have forgiven him,” Helen answered, smiling. “Indeed, if I hadn't done so long since, it would be easy to forgive him now. At first, I did feel dreadfully humiliated, but I soon saw what he had saved me from. And, of course, if he had kept his promise, I could not have married you.”
Festing looked at her with surprise. In spite of her refinement, Helen would now and then talk calmly about matters he shrank from mentioning. But after the lead she had given him he could be frank.
“Well,” he said, “I haven't forgiven him yet; I couldn't pretend friendship with anybody who had slighted you. Besides, when I found out how he had cheated me it was the worst moment of my life. I thought you would never speak to me again because, through the fellow's treachery, it was I who hurt you.”
“You're very nice, Stephen,” Helen replied, coloring. “But that's all finished. Don't you like Bob's wife? I really don't want to meet her, but one mustn't be a coward.”
“You couldn't be a coward. Sadie has her virtues and is certainly much too good for Bob, but I don't want her here for all that. Frankly, she's not your sort, and she's meddlesome. I'm not afraid she'll make you discontented, but I can't have a girl like that telling you how your house ought to be run. Although you're a beginner, you manage very well, and I'd object to improvements on somebody else's plan.”
Helen smiled. “When you talk like that, you're charming; but we'll say no more about it. You look tired. Are you sure you are not working too hard? The last time Jasper came he seemed surprised when he saw the ground you had broken. I imagined he thought you were trying to do too much.”
As she spoke she glanced at the wide belt of plowing that broke the delicate green and silver of the grass. In the foreground, the rows of clods shone with an oily gleam in the fading light. Farther off, the rows converged and melted into a sweep of purple-brown that narrowed as it crossed a distant rise. There were two other belts; one where white grasses broke through the harrow-torn sod, and another flat and smooth where the land-packer had rolled in the seed. All told of strenuous effort in which sweating men and horses had been aided by tractor machines.
“Jasper's conservative and I feel I ought to do as much as I can,” Festing replied. “When you bought the place you rather put me on my mettle.”
Helen gave him a sharp glance. “I note that you spoke of it as my house when you ought to have said ours. I don't like that, Stephen.”
“It is yours. I let you buy it because it's value must go up and the money's safe. I'm glad, of course, that you have comforts I couldn't have given you, but it's my business to support my wife, and I've got to increase my capital. I want to give you things you like, bought with money I have earned.”
“You really want to feel independent of me,” Helen suggested with a smile. “I suppose it's an honest ambition, but isn't the distinction you try to make ridiculous?”
“Perhaps, in a way,” Festing agreed. “All the same, your help makes it my duty to do my best. I don't want to feel I might be forced to fall back on your dollars.”
“You are ridiculous, Stephen,” Helen rejoined. “However, let's talk about something else.”
The talked good-humoredly until the dew and growing cold drove them in. Next morning Helen got up while the sun rose from behind a bluff on the edge of the plain, but when she went out on the veranda she saw the gasoline tractor and gang-plow lurch across the rise. This indicated that Festing had been at work for some time, and she looked thoughtful as she went back into the house.
Stephen was doing too much, and she wondered whether he could keep it up. Things, however, might be easier when the crop was sown, and if not she must insist upon his hiring extra help. She liked to see him keen about his work, but for the last few weeks he had scarcely had a minute to talk to her, and she could not allow him to wear himself out. After all, her money gave her some power, and there was no reason she should not use the power for her husband's benefit.
The sun shone hot on the rippling grass, but it was cool on the shady veranda where Helen sat in a basket chair. A newspaper lay close by and the loose leaves fluttered now and then, but she did not notice that it was in some danger of blowing away. She had been occupied since early morning, but was not quite asleep, for she was vaguely conscious of a rhythmic drumming. By and by she raised her head with a jerk and glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was three o'clock and she had been dozing for an hour. Then the drumming fixed her attention and she saw a rig lurch along the uneven trail. The horses were trotting fast and there were two people in the light wagon.
Helen saw that one was Charnock. The other, who held the reins, was, no doubt, his wife, and Helen was sorry that Festing was at work beyond the rise. She would have liked him to be there when she received her visitors, but did not think it prudent to send for him. The rig was near the house now, and as she got up her dress moved the newspaper, which was caught by a draught and blew down the stairs and across the grass. It flapped in the fresh wind and fell near the horses' feet.
This was too much for the range-bred animals to stand, and they reared and plunged, and then began to back away from the fluttering white object. Charnock jumped out and ran towards their heads, but Sadie raised her whip with a gesture of command.
“Don't butt in, Bob; I'm going to take them past.”
Charnock stood back obediently, though his alert pose hinted that he was ready to run forward if he were needed, and Helen studied his companion.
Sadie, dressed in black and white, with a black feather in her white hat, was braced back on the driving seat, with one hand on the reins while she used the whip. There was a patch of bright color in her face, her eyes flashed, and the rigidity of her figure gave her an air of savage resolution. She looked a handsome virago as she battled with the powerful horses, which plunged and kicked while the wagon rocked among the ruts. Helen watched the struggle with somewhat mixed feelings. This was the girl for whom Bob had given her up!
After an exciting minute or two Sadie forced the horses to pass the fluttering paper, and then pulled them up.
“Where's Stephen?” she asked.
Helen said he was harrowing on the other side of the rise, and Sadie, getting down, signed to Charnock.
“Put the team in the stable, and then go and look for Festing. Don't come back too soon.”
Then she came towards the house and Helen felt half-annoyed and half-amused. Stephen did not like to be disturbed when he was busy, and she knew what he thought of Bob. Moreover, she wondered with some curiosity what Mrs. Charnock had to say to her. Sadie sat down and waited until she recovered breath.
“You know who I am,” she remarked presently. “Bob can drive all right, but he's too easy with the team. I don't see why I should get down before I want because the horses are scared by a paper.”
“Perhaps it was better to make them go on, but they nearly upset you,” Helen agreed with a smile.
Sadie gave her a steady, criticizing glance, but her naïve curiosity softened her rudeness.
“Well, I wanted to see you. Looks as if Bob was a fool, in one way, but I guess I can see him through what he's up against on the prairie better than you.”
Helen had been prejudiced against Mrs. Charnock, but her blunt sincerity was disarming. Besides, she had expected something different; a hint of defiance, or suspicious antagonism.
“It's very possible,” she said. “Everything is strange here. I feel rather lost sometimes and have much to learn.”
Sadie studied her closely, and after pondering for a few moments resumed: “When I was driving over I didn't know how I was going to take you; in fact, I've been bothering about it for some time. I thought you might be dangerous.”
“You thought I might be dangerous!” Helen exclaimed with rising color. “Surely you understand—”
“Now you wait a bit and let me finish! Well, I might have come now and then, found out what I could, and given you a hint or two, until we saw how things were going to be. But that's not my way, and I reckon it's not yours. Very well. We have got to have a talk and put the thing over. To begin with, I somehow feel I can trust you, and needn't be disturbed.”
“Then I'm afraid you are rash,” Helen rejoined with a resentment that was softened by a touch of humor. “You can't form a reliable opinion, because you don't know me.”
“That's so, but I know Bob.”
Helen laughed. She ought to be angry, for Mrs. Charnock was taking an extraordinary line. But perhaps it was the best line, because it would clear the ground. She said nothing and Sadie went on:
“How do you like it here?”
“Very much. I like the open country and the fresh air. Then I think I like the people, and one has so much to do that there is not time to feel moody. It's bracing to find every minute occupied by something useful.”
“If you feel that way about it, you'll make good. And you've got a fine man for your husband. When Festing first came to the bridge I didn't know if I'd take him or Bob. In fact, I thought about it for quite a time.”
Helen's eyes sparkled. Mrs. Charnock was going too far, but she controlled her resentment.
“After all, were you not taking something for granted?”
“Well,” said Sadie thoughtfully, “if I'd tried hard, I might have got Steve then, but I don't know if I'd have been any happier with him. He'd have gone his own way and taken me along; a good way, perhaps, but it wouldn't have been mine. Bob's different; sometimes he has to be hustled and sometimes led, but you get fond of a man you must take care of. Then everybody likes Bob, and he kind of grows on you. I don't know how it is, but you can't get mad with him.”
Helen thought there was something humiliating to Bob in his wife's patience, but she was moved. Mrs. Charnock loved her husband, though she knew his faults. Then Sadie resumed in a harder voice:
“Anyhow, he's mine and I know how to keep what belongs to me.”
“I imagine you will keep him. I have no wish to take him away.”
“Well, that's why I came. I wanted to see you, and now I'm satisfied. Bob needs a friend like your husband and he puts Steve pretty high. If you can see your way to let us drive over now and then evenings——”
Helen pondered this. Stephen might object, but he was not unreasonable, and his society would certainly be good for Bob. She was not altogether pleased by the thought of the Charnocks' visits, but Sadie's resolve to help her husband had touched her. Then there was something flattering in the hint that she and Stephen could take a part in his reformation.
“Very well,” she said. “I hope you will come when you like. It will do Stephen no harm to get a rest instead of hurrying back to work after supper.”
Sadie looked grateful. “We'll certainly come. I've talked to you as I'd have talked to nobody else, but you know Bob most as well as I do. But perhaps there's enough said. Won't you show me the house?”
Helen realized that she had made an alliance with Mrs. Charnock for Bob's protection, and was conscious of a virtuous thrill. The work she had undertaken was good, but she remembered with faint uneasiness that she had pledged her husband to it without his consent. She showed Sadie the house, and while there was much the latter admired, she made, from her larger knowledge of the plains, a number of suggestions that Helen thought useful. By and by Bob returned with Festing for supper, and stopped for another hour. When he and Sadie had gone Festing frowned as he glanced at his watch.
“It's too late to finish the job I wanted to do tonight,” he said, and indicated the dark figures of a man and horses silhouetted against the sunset on the crest of the rise. “There's Jules coming home. He couldn't get on without me.”
Helen pretended not to notice his annoyance. “After all, you're not often disturbed, and a little relaxation is good. I've no doubt you had an amusing talk with Bob.”
“Bob bored me badly, though we didn't talk much. I was driving the disc-harrows and he lay in the grass. I had to stop for a few minutes every time I reached the turning and listen to his remarks.”
“And you feel you deserve some sympathy?” Helen said with a laugh. “Well, I suppose it was an infliction to be forced to talk.”
Festing's annoyance vanished. “I mustn't make too much of it. I really don't object to talking when I've finished my work.”
“When do you finish your work, Stephen?”
“That's a fair shot! In summer, I stop when it's too dark to see. The annoying thing wasn't so much the stopping as Bob's attitude. He lay there with his pipe, looking as if nothing would persuade him to work, and his smile hinted that he thought delaying me an excellent joke. I believe I was polite, but certainly hope he won't come back.”
Helen thought it was not the proper time to tell him about the invitation she had given Sadie, and she said, “Idleness seems to jar you.”
“It does. I dislike the man who demands the best to eat and drink and won't use his brain or muscle if he can help. In this country, the thing's immoral; the fellow's obviously a cheat. We live by our labor, raising grain and cattle—”
“But what about the people in the towns?”
“A number of them handle our products and supply us with tools. Of course, there are speculators and real-estate boomsters who gamble with our earnings, but their job is not as easy as it looks. They run big risks and bear some strain. Still, if it was left to me, I'd make them plow.”
Helen laughed. “You're rather drastic, Stephen; but if one takes the long view, I dare say you are right.”
“Then let's take the narrowest view we can. When a farmer who hasn't much money loafs about the poolroom and lies on his back, smoking, it's plain that he's taking advantage of somebody else. Perhaps the thing's shabbiest when he puts his responsibilities on his wife. That's what Bob does.”
“I'm afraid he does,” Helen admitted, and mused, while Festing lighted his pipe.
Stephen was not a prig and she recognized the justice of his arguments, but he was rather hard and his views were too clear-cut. He saw that a thing was good or bad, but could not see that faults and virtues sometimes merged and there was good in one and bad in the other.
“Well,” she said, “I like Mrs. Charnock, and she is certainly energetic and practical. She went over the house and suggested some improvements. For example, you are building a windmill pump for the cattle, and it wouldn't cost very much to bring a pipe to the house. A tap is a great convenience and would save Jules' time filling up the tank.”
“It will need a long pipe and cost more than Sadie thinks, but I'll have it done. However, I wish I had thought of it and she hadn't made the suggestion. I don't want Sadie interfering with our house.”
“But you don't dislike Mrs. Charnock.”
“Not in a way; but I don't know that I want to see her here. Sadie has a number of good points, but she's rather fond of managing other folks' affairs. Then she's not your kind.”
On the whole, Helen was not displeased. Mrs. Charnock's bold statements that she could have got Stephen if she had wanted had jarred, but it looked as if she had made an empty boast.
“I thought you were a democrat,” she remarked, smiling.
“So I am, in general; but when it's a matter of choosing my wife's friends, I'm an exclusive aristocrat. That's the worst of having theories; they don't apply all round.”
Helen thought his utilitarian dislike of idleness was open to this objection, but it was not the time to urge Bob's cause. She would wait for another opportunity, when Stephen had not been delayed, and she made him a humorous curtsey.
“Sometimes you're rather bearish, and sometimes you're very nice,” she said, and went into the house.
The Charnocks returned a week later and came again at regular intervals, while Helen rode over to their house now and then. Festing refused to accompany her and sometimes grumbled, but on the whole tolerated Charnock's visits so long as they did not delay his work. Nothing must be allowed to interfere with that, for he was uneasily conscious that he had set himself too big a task. His dislike to using his wife's money had spurred him on, and he had sown a very large crop at a heavy expense for labor, horses, and machines. Now he must spare no effort to get his money back, and much depended on the weather. Indeed, he was beginning to feel the strain of the unrelaxing exertion and care about details, and this sometimes reacted upon his temper. Still he must hold out until the crop was reaped, after which he could go easy during the winter months.
One hot afternoon, he lay under a mower in a sloo where the melted snow had run in spring and the wild grass now grew tall. It made good hay and the fierce sun had dried it well, so that he had only to cut and haul it home; but something had gone wrong with the machine, and after taking out the broken knife he dismantled the driving gear. When he crawled out, with a greasy cogwheel in his hand, he was soaked with perspiration and his overalls were stained by oil. The mosquitoes, that did not as a rule venture out in the strong wind and sun, had bitten him badly while he lay in the grass.
“You had better wait for ten minutes and take a smoke,” said Charnock, who had come up quietly and sat in the shade of the partly-loaded wagon. “You'll get on faster when you have cooled down.”
“You believe in waiting, don't you?” Festing rejoined.
Charnock laughed. “I feel justified in going slow just now. Sadie has given me a day off, and when she doesn't think I ought to work it certainly isn't necessary. It saves you some bother if you can leave that sort of thing to your wife.”
“Pshaw!” said Festing. “You make me tired.”
He picked up the broken knife and looked at Charnock. Bob was bantering him, exaggerating his slackness. As a matter of fact, the fellow was not so lazy as he pretended; Sadie was beginning to wake him up. Stephen did not know if he had forgiven him or not, but they had gradually dropped back into something like their old relations.
“You might take off the broken blades,” he resumed. “You'll find new ones in the box. They ought to be riveted, but if you use the short bolts and file down the nuts, I dare say they'll run through the guides.”
Then he crawled back under the machine and did not come out until he head a rattle of wheels. Wilkinson, whom he knew and disliked, stopped his team close by and began to talk to Charnock. This annoyed Festing, because he was nearly ready to replace the knife.
“I called at your place and found you were out,” Wilkinson remarked. “They told me where you had gone, and when I saw Festing's wagon I reckoned you might have gone with him. You come here pretty often, don't you?”
“Steve's patient,” Charnock replied with a twinkle. “I'm not sure he enjoys my visits, but he puts up with them.”
“Well, I want you to drive over to-morrow evening. A man you know from Winnipeg is coming to see me about a deal in Brandon building lots. The thing looks good and ought to turn out a snap.”
“The trouble is I haven't much money to invest,” Charnock answered, and Festing thought he was hesitating. It looked as if Wilkinson had not seen him yet, for he was standing behind the machine.
“I understand you have a bigger interest in the farm than you had in the hotel and something might be arranged. Anyhow, come over and hear what our friend has to say.”
“You'll be a fool if you go, Bob,” Festing interposed.
“I don't know that this is your business,” Wilkinson rejoined. “I haven't suggested that you should join us.”
“You know I wouldn't join you. I had one deal with you, and that's enough. No doubt you remember selling me the brown horse.”
“You tried the horse before you bought him.”
“I did. He was quiet then, but I've since suspected that he was doped. Anyhow, he nearly killed my hired man.”
Wilkinson laughed. “You had your trial and backed your judgment. Know more about machines than horses, don't you?”
“I didn't know the man I dealt with then. You warranted the brute good-tempered and easy to drive. I'll give you five dollars if you'll take him out of the stable and harness him now.”
“I haven't time,” said Wilkinson. “Didn't charge you high and guess you've got to pay for learning your business. The trouble is you're too sure about yourself and reckoned you'd make a splash at farming without much trouble. Anyhow, I don't want to sell Charnock a horse; he's a better judge than you.”
“He's not much judge of building lots. If your friend has got a safe snap, why do you want to let Charnock in?”
Wilkinson began to look impatient. “I came over to talk to Charnock, and if he likes the deal it's not your affair.”
“It is my affair if you stop him when he's helping me,” Festing rejoined. “If he's a fool, he'll talk to you some other time; if he's wise, he won't. Just now I'd sooner you drove off my farm.”
Wilkinson gave him a curious look. “Very well. I reckon the place is yours; or your wife's.” Then he turned to Charnock. “Are you coming over, Bob?”
“No,” said Charnock, irresolutely, “I don't think I will.”
He lighted his pipe when Wilkinson started his team, and presently remarked: “On the whole, I'm glad you headed him off, because I might have gone. You mean well, Stephen, but that man doesn't like you, and I've sometimes thought he doesn't like Sadie.”
“It doesn't matter if he likes me or not,” said Festing. “Let's get on with the mower.”