warren. Through the thin partitions I could hear the
people all about me stirring in their sleep at night. I went to the
mill in a crowded car every morning, and up to the office in an
elevator. I stayed with it just a month, and then I broke out."

"Broke out?" said Ida.

"Threw the flour-mill people's pens across the office. You see, I was
getting sick for room and air. I presented the concern with my last
week's stipend, and a man at the boarding-house with my city clothes."

"What did you do then?"

"Took the trail. There was limitless prairie straight on in front of
me. I walked for days, and slept at night wherever I could find a
bluff. I could hear the little grasses whispering when I lay
half-awake, and it was comforting to know that there were leagues and
leagues of them between me and the city. I drove a team for a farmer
most of that season. Then I went on to a track that they were
strengthening and straightening in this province. It ran between the
rock and the river, and the snow hadn't gone. We worked waist-deep in
it part of the time, and thawed out every stick of giant-powder at the
fire. The construction boss was a hustler, and he drove us
mercilessly. We toiled raw-handed, worn-out and savage, and he drove
us all the harder when one of the boys tried to brain him."

"And you never longed to be back in the office at the flour-mill?"

Weston laughed.

"Didn't you find those sleigh-rides, skating-rinks, and even the trips
west in your father's private car, grow exceedingly tame?"

"Ah," said Ida, "you must remember that I have never known anything
else."

"Then you have only to wait a little. It's quite certain that you
won't be able to say that some day."

It seemed to Ida inadvisable to pursue the subject further, though she
was not sure that he wished to do so.

"How did you expend your energy after you left the track?" she asked.

"I don't quite remember. Drove horses, went about with a thrashing
outfit, hewed logs for bridges--but haven't I talked too long about
myself? You have told me nothing of--Montreal."

Ida risked a chance shot.

"Don't you know that kind of life? It must be very much the same as
the one your people lead in England. It doesn't count that their
amusements are slightly different."

Weston foiled her again.

"Well," he said, with an air of reflection, "I don't quite think it
is; but perhaps I'm prejudiced. I wheeled scrap-iron at the
rolling-mills when I was