When all was complete, he nodded to Maggie to take charge of the proceedings.

Maggie hastily inspected the contents of the green box, and having satisfied herself that it was all there, she laid it up, high and dry, on the clock shelf.

Then she hastily looked at the piles and read the slip of brown paper, which seemed to stand for one sorrel pacer, one cutter, one set single harness, two goat robes.

“Rance,” said Maggie, slowly, “we don’t want a cent that don’t belong to us.  I put Da at playing with you in the hope he would win all away from you that you had, for we were bound to stop you from goin’ away with that dear girl if it could be done, and we knew you couldn’t go broke; but now you can’t do any harm if you had all the money in the world, for she’s just gone home a few minutes ago with her man.”

Rance Belmont started forward with a smothered oath, which Mrs. Corbett ignored.

“So take your money and horse and all, Rance.  It ain’t me and Da would keep a cent we haven’t earned.  Take it, Rance”—­shoving it toward him—­ “there’s no hard feelin’s now, and good luck to you!  Sure, I guess Da enjoyed the game, and it seems he hadn’t forgot the way.”  Maggie Corbett could not keep a small note of triumph out of her voice.

Rance Belmont gathered up the money without a word, and, putting on his cap and overcoat, he left the Black Creek Stopping-House.  John Corbett carried the green box upstairs and put it carefully back in its place of safety, while Maggie Corbett carefully peppered and salted the potatoes in the pan.

* * * * *

When Robert Grant, of the Imperial Lumber Company, of Toronto, wakened from his slumber it was broad daylight, and the yellow winter sun poured in through the frosted panes.  The events of the previous night came back to him by degrees; the sore place on his face reminding him of the slight difference of opinion between himself and his new friend, young Mr. Brown.

“Pretty nice, tasty room this young fellow has,” he said to himself, looking around at the many evidences of daintiness and good taste.  “He’s a dandy fine young fellow, that Brown.  I could take to him without half trying.”

Then he became conscious of low voices in the next room.

“Hello, Brown!” he called.

Fred appeared in the doorway with a smiling face.

“How do you feel this morning, Mr. Grant?” he asked.

“I feel hungry,” Mr. Grant declared.  “I want some more of your good prairie cooking.  If I get another meal of it I believe I’ll be able to make friends with my son-in-law.  When are you going to let me get up?”

Just then there was a rustle of skirts and Evelyn came swiftly into the room.

“Oh, father! father!” she cried, kissing the old man over and over again.  “You will forgive me, won’t you?”

The old man’s voice was husky with happy tears.