The Hound From The North Part 34

Eventually her persuasions prevailed.

"Mother Hephzy's fretting away down-stairs and Sarah is backing her up. The long-suffering Mary has been catching it in consequence. So come along and be your most cheerful self, Prue. The poor old dears must be humoured."

And Alice with gentle insistence led her companion down to the parlour.

"And where, miss, have you been all this precious time?" asked Mrs.

Malling, when the two girls reached the parlour. "Sleeping, I'll be bound, to judge by them spectacles around your eyes. There's no git-up about young folk now-a-days," she went on, turning to Sarah. "Six hours' sleep for healthy-minded women, I says; not an hour more nor an hour less. Sister Emma was allus one o' them for her sy-esta." Then she turned back to Prudence. "Maybe she learned you, my girl."

"I haven't been sleeping, mother," Prudence protested, taking her place at the table. "I don't feel very well."

"Ah, you don't say so," exclaimed the old lady, all anxiety at once.

"An' why didn't you tell me before? Now maybe you've got a touch o'

the sun?"

"Have you been faint and giddy?" asked Sarah, fixing her quiet eyes upon the girl's face.

"No, I don't think so. I've got a headache--nothing more."

"Ah; cold bath and lemon soda," observed her mother practically.

"Tea, and be left alone," suggested Sarah.

"'Nature designs all human ills, but in the making Suggests the cure which best is for the taking.'"

Her steady old eyes seemed able to penetrate mere outward signs.

"Quite right, 'Aunt' Sarah," said Alice decidedly. "Leave the nostrums and quackeries alone. Prue will be all right after a nice cup of tea.

Now, mother Hephzy, one of your best for the invalid, and, please, I'll have some more ham."

"That you shall, you flighty harum-scarum. And to think o' the likes o' you dictating to me about nostrums and physickings," replied the farm-wife, with a comfortable laugh. "I'll soon be having Mary teaching me to toss a buckwheat 'slap-jack.' Now see an' cut from the sides o' that ham where the curin's primest. I do allow as the hams didn't cure just so, last winter. Folks at my board must have of the best."

"I never knew any one to get anything else here," laughed Alice. Then she turned her head sharply and sat listening.

Mrs. Malling looked over towards the window. Prudence silently sipped her tea, keeping her eyes lowered as much as possible. She knew that, in spite of their talk, these kindly people were worried about her, and she tried hard to relieve their anxiety.

"Some one for us," said Alice, as the sound of horse's hoofs came in through the open window.

"Some one from Lakeville, I expect," said Mrs. Malling, making a guess.

"That's George Iredale's horse," said Sarah, who had detected the sound of a pacer's gait.

Prudence looked up in a startled, frightened way. Sarah was looking directly at her. She made no further comment aloud, but contented herself with a quiet mental note.

"Something wrong," she thought; "and it's to do with him. Poor child, poor child. Maybe she's fretting herself because----"

Her reflections were abruptly broken off as the sound of a man's voice hailing at the front door penetrated to the parlour.

"Any one in?" cried the voice; and instantly Alice sprang to her feet.

"It's Robb!" she exclaimed. There was a clatter as her chair fell back behind her; she nearly fell over it, reached the door, and the next moment those in the parlour heard the sound of joyous exclamations proceeding from the hall.

Prudence's expression was a world of relief. Her mother was overjoyed.

"This is real good. Bring him in! Bring him in, Miss Thoughtless!

Don't keep him there a-philandering when there's good fare in the parlour!"

"'Love feeds on kisses, we read in ancient lay; Meaning the love of yore; not of to-day,'"

murmured Sarah, with a pensive smile, while she turned expectantly to greet the visitor.

Radiant, her face shining with conscious happiness, Alice led her fiance into the room. And Robb Chillingwood found himself sitting before the farm-wife's generous board almost before he was aware of it. While he was being served he had to face a running fire of questions from, at least, three of the ladies present.

Robb was a cheerful soul and ever ready with a pleasant laugh. This s.n.a.t.c.hed holiday from a stress of under-paid work was like a "bunk" to a schoolboy. It was more delightful to him by reason of the knowledge that he would have to pay up for it afterwards with extra exertions and overtime work.

"You didn't tell us when you were coming," said Alice.

"Didn't know myself. Thought I'd ride over from Iredale's place on spec'."

"And you're come from there now?" asked Mrs. Malling.

Prudence looked up eagerly.

"Yes; I've just bought all his stock for a Scotch client of mine."

"Scotch?" Sarah turned away with a motion of disgust.

"What, has George sold all his beasties at last?" exclaimed the farm-wife.

"Why, yes. Didn't you know? He's giving up his ranch."

Robb looked round the table in surprise. There was a pause. Then Mrs.

Malling broke it--

"He has spoken of it--hinted. But we wasn't expectin' it so soon. He's made his pile."

"Yes, he must have done so," said Robb readily. "The price he parted with his cattle to me for was ridiculous. I shall make a large profit out of my client. It'll all help towards furnishing, Al," he went on, turning to his fiancee.

"I'm so glad you are doing well now, Robb," the girl replied, with a happy smile.

"Yes." Then the man turned to Mrs. Malling. "We're going to get married this fall. I hope Alice has been learning something of housekeeping"--with a laugh.

"Why, yes. Alice knows a deal more than she reckons to let on, I guess," said the farm-wife, with a fat chuckle.

Prudence now spoke for the first time since Robb's arrival. She looked up suddenly, and, though she tried hard to speak conversationally, there was a slightly eager ring in her voice.

"When is George Iredale going to leave the ranch?"

Robb turned to her at once.