Agatha spoke again.

"But Gregory wasn't a carpenter," she said.

"In those days when money was scarce we had to be whatever we could.
There wasn't much specialization of handicrafts out there then. The
farmer whose crop was ruined took up the railroad shovel, or borrowed a
saw from somebody and set about building houses, or anything else that
was wanted."

"Of course!" replied Agatha. "Besides, he was always wonderfully quick.
He could learn any game by just watching it a while. He did all he
undertook brilliantly."

It occurred to Wyllard that Gregory had, at least, made no great success
of farming; but that occupation, as practiced on the prairie, demands a
great deal more than quickness and what some call brilliancy from the
man who undertakes it. He must, as they say out there, possess the
capacity for staying with it--the grim courage to hold fast the tighter
under each crushing blow, when the grain shrivels under the harvest
frost, or when the ragged ice hurtling before a roaring blast does the
reaping. It was, however, evident that this girl had an unquestioning
faith in Gregory Hawtrey, and once more Wyllard felt compassionate
towards her. He wondered if she would have retained her confidence had
Hawtrey spent those four years in England instead of Canada, for it was
clear from the contrast between her and her picture that she had grown
in many ways since she had given her promise to her lover. He had said
what he could in Hawtrey's favor, but now he felt that something was due
to the girl.

"Gregory told me to explain what things are like out there," he said. "I
think it is because they are so different from what you are accustomed
to that he has waited so long. He wanted to make them as easy as
possible for you, and now he would like you to realize what is before
you."

He was surprised at the girl's quick comprehension, for she glanced
around the luxurious room with a faint smile.

"You look on me as part of--this? I mean it seems to you that I fit in
with my surroundings, and would be in harmony only with them?"

"Yes," answered Wyllard gravely, "I think you fit in with them
excellently."

Agatha laughed. "Well," she said, "I was once, to a certain extent,
accustomed to something similar; though, after all, one could hardly
compare the Grange with Garside Scar. Still, that was some time ago, and
I have earned my living for several years now. That counts for
something, doesn't it?"

She glance