Ranching for Sylvia Part 45

"That's true; they've made me feel half ashamed. I never expected this."

"In my opinion, the sensation's quite unnecessary. You have given a few people a lift in your time, and I've an optimistic notion that actions of the kind recoil on one, even though it's a different person who makes you some return."

"I wish you would stop talking!" George exclaimed impatiently.

Edgar mentally compared Flora Grant with Sylvia, in whom he disbelieved, and found it hard to restrain himself. It was, he felt, a great misfortune that George could not be made to see.

"Oh, well!" he acquiesced. "I could say a good deal more, if I thought it would do any good, but as that doesn't seem likely I'll dry up."

"That's a comfort," George said shortly.

He left the granary in a thoughtful mood, and on the following evening drove over to the Grant homestead. Its owner was busy somewhere outside when he reached it, but Flora received him and he sat down with satisfaction to talk to her. It had become a pleasure to visit the Grants; he felt at home in their house. The absence of all ceremony, the simple Canadian life, had a growing attraction for him. One could get to know these people, which was a different thing from merely meeting them, and George thought this was to some extent the effect of their surroundings. He had always been conscious of a closer and more intimate contact with his friends upon the mountain-side or the banks of some salmon river than he had ever experienced in a club or drawing-room. For all that, Flora sometimes slightly puzzled him. She was free from the affectations and restraints of artificial conventionality, but there was a reserve about her which he failed to penetrate. He wondered what lay behind it and had a curious feeling that Edgar either guessed or knew.

"Did you enjoy your visit to Winnipeg?" she asked.

"It was a pleasant change and I got through my business satisfactorily.

Of course, I didn't go for amus.e.m.e.nt."

Flora laughed.

"So I supposed; you're growing more Canadian every day. But you meant to make a visit to England, which couldn't have had any connection with business, last winter, didn't you?"

George's face grew serious. He had, she thought, not got over his disappointment.

"Yes," he said. "But there was nothing to be done here then."

"So the things that should be done invariably come first with you?"

"In this case--I mean as far as they concern the farm--it's necessary."

Flora considered his answer, studying him quietly, though she had some sewing in her hands. Supposing, as she had once thought, there was some English girl he had longed to see, he could have made the journey later, when his crop had been sown, even though this entailed some neglect of minor operations that required his care. He received, as she had learned with interest, few English letters, so there was n.o.body to whom he wrote regularly; and yet his disappointment when forced to abandon his visit had obviously been keen. There was, Flora thought, a mystery here.

"After all," she said, "the feeling you have indicated is pretty common in the Canadian wheat-belt."

"Then why should you expect me to be an exception? As a matter of fact, I'm at least as anxious as my neighbors to be successful. That's partly why I've come over to-night." His voice grew deeper and softer as he continued. "I want to thank you and your father for your surprising generosity."

"Surprising?" responded Flora lightly, though she was stirred by the signs of feeling he displayed. "Do you know you're not altogether complimentary?"

He smiled.

"You'll forgive the slip; when one feels strongly, it's difficult to choose one's words. Anyway, to get that seed, and so much of it, is an immense relief. I'm deeply grateful; the more so because your action was so spontaneous. I haven't a shadow of a claim on you."

Flora put down her sewing and looked at him directly.

"I don't think you ought to say that--do you wish to be considered a stranger?"

"No," George declared impulsively. "It's the last thing I want.

Still, you see--"

She was pleased with his eagerness, but she checked him.

"Then, as you have a gift of making friends, you must take the consequences."

"I didn't know I had the gift. My real friends aren't plentiful."

"If you begin to count, you may find them more numerous than you think."

"Those I have made in Canada head the list."

The girl felt a thrill of satisfaction. This was not a compliment; he had spoken from his heart.

"After all, I don't see why you should insist on thanking me as well as my father, who really sent you the seed." She paused. "You didn't do so on the last occasion; I mean at the time when it was promised to you."

This was correct, and George was conscious of some embarra.s.sment.

"Well," he said firmly, "I think I'm justified."

Flora could not contradict him, and she was glad he felt as he did.

She liked his way of sticking to the point; indeed, she was sensible of a strong liking for the man.

During the next minute or two her father came in. He cut short George's thanks, and then took out his pipe.

"I was in at the b.u.t.te yesterday," he said. "The police have got the men who knocked Farren out, and Flett says they mean to press for a smart penalty. It's about time they made an example of somebody. When I was in, I fixed it up to turn Langside off his holding."

Flora looked up with interest.

"But how had you the power?" George asked.

"The man owes me four hundred dollars for a horse and some second-hand implements I let him have nearly three years ago."

"But he has broken a big strip of his land; it's worth a good deal more than you lent him."

"Just so. He owes everybody money round the b.u.t.te. I saw Taunton of the store and the implement man and told them Langside had to quit."

"You seem to have found them willing to agree."

Grant broke into a grim smile.

"What I say to those men goes. Then I've got security; they know I could pull Langside down."

George looked at Flora and was slightly surprised at her acquiescent manner.

"It sounds a little harsh; a good harvest might have set him straight,"

he said. "However, I suppose you have a reason for what you're doing."

"That's so. Langside's the kind of man I've no use for; he takes no interest in his place. After he has put in half a crop, he goes off and spends his time doing a little railroad work and slouching round the saloons along the line."

"It doesn't seem sufficient to justify your ruining him."