e," she replied slowly. "He is a
good man, and a good friend. We, as you know, are his nearest
neighbours. Are you going over there to-day?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Oh--it doesn't matter--I was going to ask you to ride over to
Lakeville to ask Alice Gordon to come here during the harvesting.
She's staying with the Covills. But it doesn't matter in the least, I
can send one of the boys."

"Yes, better send one of the boys. I'm going over to Lonely Ranch. I
shall cultivate Iredale; he's the only man I care about round here."

Prudence had nearly completed her operations and was salting the cream
in the pail.

"Say, sis, did it ever strike you that Iredale's dead sweet on you?"
Hervey went on coarsely.

The girl suddenly turned and looked her brother squarely in the face.
Her brow was again flushed, but now with anger.

"You'll lose the best of your shooting if you don't hurry. You've got
ten miles to ride. And--I am going to lock up."

Her brother didn't offer to move.

"Why do you do all this work?" he went on calmly. "Why don't you send
all the milk to the Government creamery? It'll save labour, and you
get market price for the produce."

"Because Government creameries are for those who can't afford to send
their stuff to market, or make their cheese on their farms."

"Ah, that's the worst of being large farmers, it entails so much work.
By Jove! Iredale doesn't work like we 'moss-backs' have to, and he's
made a fortune. I guess if there were a Mrs. George Iredale she'd have
a bully time. No cheese- or butter-making, eh, sis?" And, with a grin,
Hervey turned on his heel, and, passing up the steps, walked away
towards the barn.

Prudence waited until her brother had disappeared within the stables;
then she locked up. As she turned from the door she heard her mother's
voice calling.

"Girl--girl, where are you?"

"Here I am, mother dear, at the creamery."

Mrs. Malling trundled round the corner of the house.

"Prudence, there's young Peter Furrer come over, and I haven't time to
stop and gossip with him. Like as not he don't want to talk to a body
like me, anyway. Just drop that skirt o' yours, girl, and go and see
him. A nice time o' day to come a-courtin'. He'll be a-follerin' you
to the grain fields when we're harvesting."

Prudence smiled.

"Never mind, mother. He's come at an opportune moment. I want a
messenger to go over to Lakeville. He'll do. I'm sending word to Alice
Gordon. I want her to