have known what it meant. He had seen the same expression on
old Henry Ford's face many a time.

Wesley laughed good-humouredly, as if at a child. His heart was
suddenly set on going west, and he was sure he could soon bring
Theodosia around. He did not say anything more about it just then.
Wesley thought he knew how to manage women.

When he broached the subject again, two days later, Theodosia told him
plainly that it was no use. She would never consent to leave
Heatherton and all her friends and go out to the prairies. The idea
was just rank foolishness, and he would soon see that himself.

All this Theodosia said calmly and sweetly, without any trace of
temper or irritation. Wesley still believed that he could persuade her
and he tried perseveringly for a fortnight. By the end of that time he
discovered that Theodosia was not a great-great-granddaughter of old
Henry Ford for nothing.

Not that Theodosia ever got angry. Neither did she laugh at him. She
met his arguments and pleadings seriously enough, but she never
wavered.

"If you go to Manitoba, Wes, you'll go alone," she said. "I'll never
go, so there is no use in any more talking."

Wesley was a descendant of old Henry Ford too. Theodosia's unexpected
opposition roused all the latent stubbornness of his nature. He went
over to Centreville oftener, and kept his blood at fever heat talking
to Greene and Cary, who wanted him to go with them and spared no pains
at inducement.

The matter was gossiped about in Heatherton, of course. People knew
that Wesley Brooke had caught "the western fever," and wanted to sell
out and go to Manitoba, while Theodosia was opposed to it. They
thought Dosia would have to give in in the end, but said it was a pity
Wes Brooke couldn't be contented to stay where he was well off.

Theodosia's family naturally sided with her and tried to dissuade
Wesley. But he was mastered by that resentful irritation, roused in a
man by opposition where he thinks he should be master, which will
drive him into any cause.

One day he told Theodosia that he was going. She was working her
butter in her little, snowy-clean dairy under the great willows by the
well. Wesley was standing in the doorway, his stout, broad-shouldered
figure filling up the sunlit space. He was frowning and sullen.

"I'm going west in two weeks' time with the boys, Dosia," he said
stubbornly. "You can come with me or stay here--just exactly as you
please. But I'm going