Alton of Somasco | Page 7

gesture of weariness. "The young man seems
willing to do it out of friendship for us, and I see no reason why we
should not allow him, unless he presumes upon the trifling service," he
said. "To do him justice, however, he and his comrade have always
shown commendable taste."
The girl smiled a little, for considering their relative positions in a
country where a man takes his station according to his usefulness the
word "presume" appeared incongruous. "Still, I should prefer not to be
in their debt," she said.
"Then we will free ourselves of the obligation with the next remittance
Jack sends in," said Townshead impatiently.
The girl's face grew troubled. "I am afraid that will not be for some
little time," she said. "Poor Jack. You surely remember he is lying ill?"
"It is especially inconvenient just now," said Townshead querulously.
"It has also been a sore point with me that a son of mine should hire
himself out as a labourer. I am sorry I let him go, the more so because
the work upon the ranch is getting too much for me."
Nellie Townshead said nothing, though she sighed as she pictured the
young lad, who had been stricken by rheumatic fever as a result of
toiling waist-deep in icy, water, lying uncared for in the mining camp
amidst the snows of Caribou. She did not, however, remind her father
that it was she who had in the meanwhile done most of the
indispensable work upon the ranch, and Townshead would not in any
case have believed her, for he had a fine capacity for deceiving himself.
In place of it she spread out some masculine garments about the stove
and coloured a trifle when her father glanced at her inquiringly. "The
creek must be running high and Mr. Alton and his partner will be very
wet," she said. "I am warming a few of Jack's old things for them. They
cannot go back to Somasco to-night, you know."

"I confess that it did not occur to me," said Townshead languidly. "No,
I suppose one could scarcely expect them to, and we shall have to
endure their company."
A faint sparkle that had nothing to do with laughter crept into the girl's
eyes, for there were times when her father tried her patience. "I wonder
if it occurred to you that we shall probably starve to-morrow unless Mr.
Alton, who is apparently not to be paid for it, makes what must be a
very arduous march to-night?" she said.
"I'm afraid it did not," said Townshead, with a fine unconcern. "I think
you understand, my dear, that I leave the commissariat to you, and you
have a way of putting things which jars upon one occasionally."
A little trace of colour crept into the girl's cheek, but it faded again as
she sat down beside the stove. Still, now and then she pricked her
fingers with the needle, which she had not done before, and finally laid
down the fabric and laughed softly. "There is," she said, "something
distinctly humorous in the whole position."
"You," said her father, "had always a somewhat peculiar sense of
humour."
"Well," said his daughter with a slight quiver of her lips, "I feel that I
must either cry or laugh to-night. Do you know there is scarcely
enough for breakfast in the house, and that I am dreadfully hungry
now?"
Townshead glanced at her reproachfully. "Either one or the other would
be equally distasteful to me," he said.
The girl sighed, and turned away to thrust a few small billets into the
stove. She chose them carefully, for the big box whose ugliness she had
hidden by a strip of cheap printed cotton was almost empty. The hired
man, seeing no prospect of receiving his wages, had departed after a
stormy interview, and shortly after his son followed him. Townshead
discovered that sawing wood was especially unsuited to his constitution.
Then the girl increased the draught a little and endeavoured to repress a

shiver. The house was damp for want of proper packing, and the cold
wind that came down from the high peaks moaned about it eerily. It
was also very lonely, and the girl, who was young, felt a great longing
for human fellowship.
Her father presently took up a book, and there was silence only broken
by the rattle of loose shingles overhead and the soft thud against the
windows of driving snow, while the girl sat dreaming over her sewing
of the brighter days in far-off England which had slipped away from
her for ever. Five years was not a very long time, but during it her
English friends had forgotten her, and one who had scarcely left her
side that memorable night had, though she read