Part 6 (1/2)

”Without previous knowledge or technical training?”

He gave her a quick, appreciative glance.

”You have a knack of getting at the heart of things!” he said in his blunt way. ”It's not common.”

Beatrice laughed, but she felt mildly flattered. She liked men to treat her seriously; and so few of them did. Somehow she felt that Harding was an unusual man: his toil-roughened hands and his blunt manner of speech were at variance with the indefinite air of culture and good-breeding that hovered round him. There was strength, shown plainly; and she felt that he had ability--when confronted with a difficult problem he would find the best solution. It was interesting to lead him on; but she was to find him ready to go much farther than she desired.

”I hope making the new pole for us wasn't too much trouble,” she said lightly.

”It gives me keen pleasure to be of any use to you,” he said.

The color swept into Beatrice's face, for he was looking at her with an intent expression that made it impossible to take his remark lightly.

She was angry with herself for feeling confused while he looked so cool.

”That sounds rather cheap,” she replied with a touch of scorn.

”My excuse is that it's exactly what I felt.”

Composure in difficult circ.u.mstances was one of the characteristics of her family, yet Beatrice felt at a loss. Harding, she thought, was not the man to yield to a pa.s.sing impulse or transgress from unmeaning effrontery; but this made the shock worse.

Lance saved the situation by announcing that the team was ready.

As the buggy jolted away across the plain, Beatrice sat silent. She felt indignant, humiliated, in a sense; but thrilled in spite of this. The man's tone had been earnest and his gaze steadfast. He meant what he said. But he had taken an unwarrantable liberty. n.o.body knew anything about him except that he was a working farmer. Her cheeks burned as she realized that she had, perhaps, been to blame in treating him too familiarly. Then her anger began to pa.s.s. After all, it was easy to forgive sincere admiration, and he was certainly a fine type--strong and handsome, clever with his hands, and, she thought, endowed with unusual mental power. There was something flattering in the thought that he had appreciated her. For all that, he must be given no opportunity for repeating the offense; he must be shown that there was a wide gulf between them.

Lance broke in upon her thoughts.

”I like that fellow,” he said. ”It's a pity he isn't more of our kind.”

Beatrice pondered. Harding was not of their kind; but she did not feel sure that the difference was wholly in favor of the Allenwood settlers.

This struck her as strange; as it was contrary to the opinions she had hitherto held.

”Why?” she asked carelessly.

”We might have seen something of him then.”

”Can't you do so now, if you wish?”

”I'm not sure. It might not please the Colonel--you know his opinions.”

Beatrice smiled, for she had often heard them dogmatically expressed.

”After all, what is there he could object to about Harding?” she asked.

”Not much in one sense; a good deal in another. You can't deny that the way one is brought up makes a difference. Perhaps the worst is that he's frankly out for money--farming for dollars.”

”Aren't we?”

”Not now. We're farming for pleasure. But Kenwyne and one or two others think there'll have to be a change in that respect before long.”

”Then we'll be in the same position as Harding, won't we?”