The Prospector | Page 6

to see her excitement and hear
her criticisms. Oh, she's a great sport!"
"Go on," said Helen, her fine eyes beginning to glow. "Go on. Tell us
more about her."
But Brown shut up abruptly, as if he had been taking a liberty with the
privacy of his friend's home.
"Oh," he said lightly, "there's nothing more to tell. They live a very
quiet, very simple, but, I think, a very beautiful life."
"And she's fond of football?" inquired Betty.
"Devoted to it."
"And has she never seen a game? Has she never seen Shock play?"
inquired Helen.
"Never."
"Would she be afraid?"
"Would you insult the widow of a Sutherland Highlander whose picture
in warlike regalia regards her daily from her cottage wall?"
"Well, I am going to see her," exclaimed Betty.

Brown looked annoyed.
"What for?"
"Why, I am going to call."
Brown laughed a little scornfully. "Yes, and be sure to leave three
cards--is it?--and tell her your day."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Betty indignantly. "You are not very
polite."
"Oh, I am sorry, really. But I imagined the old lady looking at you and
wondering what was your particular business, and then I thought of
your difficulty in making it quite clear to her."
"Why! does she not call on anyone?"
"No. She takes her knitting and visits."
"Well, I'm going anyway, somehow. I'll ask Shock to take me."
"Oh, Betty, you could not do that," said Helen. "No man would like
exhibiting his home, much less his mother."
But Betty shook her head decidedly, saying, "I'll find some way. Tell
me, what does she like?"
"Shock."
"But I mean what amusement and pleasure has she?"
"Amusement! Shades of the mighty past! Why, Miss Betty," Brown's
tone is sad and severe, "in my young days young people never thought
of amusement. We had no time for such follies."
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Betty impatiently. "Has she no other
interest in life than Shock?"
"None. Her church,--she would regard your prelacy with horror,--and
Shock, and Shock's doings and goings--and football, of course, as I
have said. Shock plays, you see."
"Then I have an idea," cried Helen. "We'll--"
"Do go on," appealed Brown.
"Better give it to him," said Lloyd. "An idea, you know, is to some
people a rare and valuable asset."
"Not now. Perhaps later I may impart it," said Helen.
"It would be a great kindness," said Brown humbly, "if you could let
me have it soon."
"Nature abhors a vacuum, you know," put in Lloyd.
At this point the bell rang and The Don came in. He was a young man
of striking appearance, handsome, dark, well set up, with the eyes of

his Spanish mother, but with the head and jaw of his Scotch sea-
captain father. With all his ease of manner there was a shy, proud
reserve about him, and a kind of grand air that set him apart from any
company in which he might appear.
After saluting the young ladies with a somewhat formal bow, he
announced, "I want you, Brown."
"Oh, sit down," cried Betty. "Sit down, Mr. Balfour. We are not going
to allow you to carry off our visitor in this abrupt manner."
"Yes, take yourself off," cried Brown. "You see I can't be spared."
"Please sit down," urged Helen. "We want to ask you about the match."
"I really cannot," replied The Don. "I am on duty, you see."
"On duty?"
"Yes. Looking after men who would stay out to all hours, and regale
themselves upon cake and all sorts of indigestible stuff. And more than
that, Shock is outside waiting."
"Oh," cried Betty, "do bring him in. For years Helen and I have known
him, and yet we don't know him. Bring him in."
"Can you not persuade him to come in?" urged Helen.
"I am sure I cannot. But if you were to try--" The Don paused, looking
doubtfully at her. Helen hesitated.
"Oh, he's awful, I know. He will hardly speak to me," interrupted Betty.
"But if you'll come with me I'll humble myself before him."
In a moment or two, sure enough, they returned, with Shock following.
He was a big man, gaunt and bony, with a mighty pair of shoulders
topped by a square, massive head on which bristled a veritable shock of
coarse, yellow hair. But he had a strong, honest face, and good, deep
blue eyes. He seemed too big for the room, and after shaking hands
awkwardly with Helen, who had gone forward to meet him, he
subsided into, deep arm-chair, struggling with his hands and feet.
The contrast between Shock on the one hand, and the elegant Lloyd and
the handsome Don on the other, could hardly be more striking. All in
the room were conscious of