Part 4 (2/2)
”Yes. He was there.”
He had suddenly ceased to be communicative, and she instinctively asked no more questions, except as to the cause of the conflagration.
”Probably an explosion of coal-oil. It was sometimes used to light the fire with in the morning.”
”How very, very terrible!” she said gently, after a moment, as though she felt it. ”Did you stay on at the farm?”
”I brought up my two brothers. They were on a visit to some neighbours at the time of the fire. We stayed on three years.”
”With your father?”
”No; we three alone.”
She felt vaguely puzzled; but before she could turn to another subject, he had added--
”There was nothing else for us to do. We had no money and no relations--nothing but the land. So we had to work it--and we managed.
But after three years we'd saved a little money, and we wanted to get a bit more education. So we sold the land and moved up to Montreal.”
”How old were the brothers when you took on the farm?”
”Thirteen--and fifteen.”
”Wonderful!” she exclaimed. ”You must be proud.”
He laughed out.
”Why, that kind of thing's done every day in this country! You can't idle in Canada.”
They had turned back towards the train. In the doorway of the car sat Philip Gaddesden lounging and smoking, enveloped in a fur coat, his knees covered with a magnificent fur rug. A whisky and soda had just been placed at his right hand. Elizabeth thought--”He said that because he had seen Philip.” But when she looked at him, she withdrew her supposition. His eyes were not on the car, and he was evidently thinking of something else.
”I hope your brother will take no harm,” he said to her, as they approached the car. ”Can I be of any service to you in Winnipeg?”
”Oh, thank you. We have some introductions--”
”Of course. But if I can--let me know.”
An official came along the line, with a packet in his hand. At sight of Elizabeth he stopped and raised his hat.
”Am I speaking to Lady Merton? I have some letters here, that have been waiting for you at Winnipeg, and they've sent them out to you.”
He placed the packet in her hand. The Canadian moved away, but not before Elizabeth had seen again the veiled amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. It seemed to him comic, no doubt, that the idlers of the world should be so royally treated. But after all--she drew herself up--her father had been no idler.
She hastened to her brother; and they fell upon their letters.
”Oh, Philip!”--she said presently, looking up--”Philip! Arthur Delaine meets us at Winnipeg.”
”Does he? _Does he_?” repeated the young man, laughing. ”I say, Lisa!--”
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