me
hurriedly in.

"Oh, here you are. You two gossiping as usual. Mother, it's too bad of
you to rob me of my guests. But I came to ask for more lemonade."

"Dip it out of yonder kettle, child. And you can take George off at
once. It's high time he got at the cards."

"He's too late, the game is nearly over. He'll have to sit out with
Leslie. He, also, was too late. Come along, Mr. Iredale,"--she had
filled the lemonade pitcher,--"and, mother, when shall you be ready
with the supper? Remember, you've got to come and give out the prizes
to the winners before that."

"Also to the losers," put in Iredale.

"Yes, they must all have prizes. What time, mother?"

"In an hour. And be off, the pair of you. Mary! Mary!" the old lady
called out, moving towards the summer kitchen. "Bustle about, girl,
and count down the plates from the dresser. La, look at you," she went
on, as the hired girl came running in; "where's the cap I gave you?
And for good-a-mussey's sake go and scrub your hands. My, but girls be
jades."

Iredale and Prudence went off to the parlour. The game was nearly
over, and the guests were laughing and chattering noisily. The
excitement was intense. Leslie Grey sat aloof. He was engaged in a
pretence at conversation with Sarah Gurridge, but, to judge by the
expression of his face, his temper was still sulky or his thoughts
were far away. The moment Iredale entered the room Grey's face lit up
with something like interest.

Prudence, accompanying the rancher, was quick to observe the change.
She had been prepared for something of the sort, although the reason
she assigned to his interest was very wide of the mark. She smiled to
herself as she turned to reply to something Iredale had just said.

The evening passed in boisterous jollification. And after the prizes
had been awarded supper was served. A solid supper, just such a repast
as these people could and did appreciate. The delicacies Mrs. Malling
offered to her guests were something to be remembered. She spared no
pains, and even her enemies, if she had any, which is doubtful,
admitted that she could cook; such an admission amongst the prairie
folks was a testimonial of the highest order.

After supper George Iredale, whose quiet manner and serious face
debarred him from the revels of the younger men, withdrew to a small
work-room which was usually set aside on these occasions for the use
of those who desired to smoke. Leslie Grey, who had been talkin