“Marion’s pa has left French River for a little while on business, and Marion will make her home with us until he returns,” said Mrs. O’Dell.

There was bacon for breakfast as well as buckwheat pancakes, and there were hot biscuits and strawberry preserves and cream to top off with. The elders did most of the talking. Marion sat beside Jim McAllister, on his left. Jim, having taken his cue from his sister, racked his memory for nice things to say of Richard Sherwood. He sang Sherwood’s prowess in field and stream. At last, spooning his preserves with his right hand, he let his left hand rest on his knee beneath the edge of the table.

“And brave!” he said. “You couldn’t scare him! I never knew any man so brave as Dick Sherwood except only John O’Dell.”

Then a queer change of expression came over his face. Young Ben, who was watching his uncle from the other side of the table, noticed it instantly. The blue eyes widened; the drooping mustache twitched; the lower jaw sagged and a vivid flush ascended throat and chin and cheek beneath the tough tan of wind and sun. Ben wondered.

Breakfast over, the man and youth went outside, for there were potatoes to be hilled and turnips to be thinned.

“What was the matter with you, Uncle Jim?” inquired Ben.

“Me? When?” asked McAllister.

“Just a little while ago. Just after you said how brave Mr. Sherwood was—from that on. You looked sort of dazed and moonstruck.”

“Moonstruck, hey? Well, I’ll tell you, Ben, seeing as it’s you. That little girl took a-holt of my hand when I said that about her pa. And she kept right on a-holding of it.”

“Girls must be queer. I knew something was wrong, you looked so foolish. But if her father was such a fine man as you tried to make out at breakfast, what’s the matter with him? You told me that the woods had been too much for his gentility, Uncle Jim.”

“Sure it was—the woods or something; but he was smart and brave all the same when I knew him. I wasn’t lying; but I’ll admit I was telling all the good of him I could think up, so’s to hearten the poor little girl. It worked, too.”

“Do you know why he left French River? And why did he leave her to come all that way alone?”

“I’ll ask Flora, first chance I get. I’m just as curious as yerself, Ben.”

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