Ranching for Sylvia Part 44

"I'm not going to thank you; it would be difficult, and George can ride over and do so when he comes home," Edgar resumed. "I know he'll be astonished when he sees the granary."

"If he comes only to express his grat.i.tude, I'm inclined to believe my father would rather he stayed at home."

"I can believe it; but I've an idea that Mr. Grant is not the only person to whom thanks are due."

Flora looked at him sharply, but she made no direct answer.

"Your partner," she said, "compels one's sympathy."

"And one's liking. I don't know how he does so, and it isn't from any conscious desire. I suppose it's a gift of his."

Seeing she was interested, he went on with a thoughtful air:

"You see, George isn't witty, and you wouldn't consider him handsome.

In fact, sometimes he's inclined to be dull, but you feel that he's the kind of man you can rely on. There's not a trace of meanness in him, and he never breaks his word. In my opinion, he has a number of the useful English virtues."

"What are they, and are they peculiarly English?"

"I'll call them Teutonic; I believe that's their origin. You people and your neighbors across the frontier have your share of them."

"Thanks," smiled Flora. "But you haven't begun the catalogue."

"Things are often easier to recognize than to describe. At the top of the list, and really comprising the rest of it, I'd place, in the language of the country, the practical ability to 'get there.' We're not in the highest degree intellectual; we're not as a rule wors.h.i.+pers of beauty--that's made obvious by the prairie towns--and to be thought poetical makes us shy. In fact, our artistic taste is strongly defective."

"If these are virtues, they're strictly negative ones," Flora pointed out.

"I'm clearing the ground," said Edgar. "Where we s.h.i.+ne is in making the most of material things, turning, for example, these wilds into wheatfields, holding on through your Arctic cold and blazing summer heat. We begin with a tent and an ox-team, and end, in spite of countless obstacles, with a big brick homestead and a railroad or an automobile. Men of the Lansing type follow the same course consistently, even when their interests are not concerned. Once get an idea into their minds, convince them that it's right, and they'll transform it into determined action. If they haven't tools, they'll make them or find something that will serve; effort counts for nothing; the purpose will be carried out."

Flora noticed the enthusiastic appreciation of his comrade which his somewhat humorous speech revealed, and she thought it justified.

"One would imagine Mr. Lansing to be resolute," she said. "I dare say it's fortunate; he had a heavy loss to face last year."

"Yes," returned Edgar. "As you see, he's going on; though he never expected anything for himself."

"He never expected anything?" Flora repeated incredulously. "What are you saying?"

Edgar realized that he had been injudicious. Flora did not know that Sylvia Marston was still the owner of the farm and he hesitated to enlighten her.

"Well," he said, "George isn't greedy; it isn't in his nature."

"Do you mean that he's a rich man and is merely farming for amus.e.m.e.nt?"

"Oh, no," said Edgar; "far from it!" He indicated the miry wagons and the torn-up trails. "You wouldn't expect a man to do this kind of thing, if it wasn't needful. The fact is, I don't always express myself very happily; and George has told me that I talk too much."

Flora smiled and drove away shortly afterward, considering what he had said. She had noticed a trace of confusion in his manner and it struck her as significant.

When the buggy had grown small in the distance, Edgar called to Grierson and they went on again.

CHAPTER XXIV

GEORGE FEELS GRATEFUL

When George returned from Winnipeg, Edgar took him to the granary.

"You may as well look at the seed Grant sent you, and then you'll be able to thank him for it," he said. "It's in here; I turned out the common northern stuff you bought to make room."

"Why didn't you put it into the empty place in the barn?" George asked.

"I wasn't sure it would go in; there's rather a lot of it," Edgar explained, with a smile.

George entered the granary and stopped, astonished, when he saw the great pile of bags.

"Is all of that the new seed?" he asked incredulously.

"Every bag," said Edgar, watching him.

George's face reddened. He was stirred by mixed emotions: relief, grat.i.tude, and a feeling of confusion he could not a.n.a.lyze.

"Grant must have sent the whole carload!" he broke out.

"As a matter of fact, he sent most of it. Grierson and I hauled it in; and a tough job we had of it."

"And you took it all, without protesting or sending me word?"

"Yes," said Edgar coolly; "that's precisely what I did. You need the stuff; Grant meant you to have it, and I didn't want to offend him."

"I suppose you have some idea what that seed is worth?"

"I dare say I could guess. Our people at home once experimented with some American seed potatoes at three s.h.i.+llings each. But aren't you putting the matter on a rather low plane?"

George sat down and felt for his pipe.

"I feel that you have played a trick on me. If you had only let me know, I could have objected."

"Just so; that's why I kept quiet," Edgar laughed. "The seed's here and you ought to be thankful. Anyway, Grant won't take it back."

"What have I done that I should get this favor?" George said half aloud.

"That's so characteristic!" Edgar exclaimed. "Why must you always be doing things? Do you imagine that whatever one receives is the result of so much exertion?"

"I don't feel the least interest in such quibbles."

"I can't believe it," Edgar rejoined. "You're more at home when you have a fence to put up, or a strip of new land to break." Then he dropped his bantering tone. "There's nothing to be distressed about.

Grant has been pretty generous, and I think he and Flora need thanking."