“You weren’t at the barbecue yesterday.  I missed you and Caleb.  You two are very old friends of mine, Nan.  Was it quite loyal of you to stay home?”

“You’re the only person that missed us, Donald,” she answered, with just the suspicion of a tremor in her sweet voice.  “But, then, we are accustomed to being left out of things.”

He made no effort to formulate an answer to this.  Truth does not require an answer.  Yet he was sensible of a distinct feeling of sympathy for her, and, manlike, he decided to change the topic of conversation.

“You have neighbors on the Sawdust Pile, Nan.”

“Yes.  They came when The Laird was in Europe.”

“They would never have dared it had he been in Port Agnew.  I’m surprised that Andrew Daney permitted it.  I had thought of him as a man of courage, but, strange to say, these people outgamed him.”

“They didn’t outgame him, Donald.  He just didn’t care.  I—­I—­fancy he concluded they would make agreeable neighbors—­for me.”

“I’m sorry, Nan.  However, I’m the new laird of Tyee, and I’ve come down to stage an eviction.  I didn’t know of this state of affairs until this morning.”

She smiled a little wistfully and bitterly.

“I had flattered myself, Donald, you had called to visit your old friends instead.  When you waved at me last night, I—­oh, you can’t realize how happy it made me to know that you had noticed me—­that you really were big enough to be the big man of Port Agnew.  And I thought perhaps you would come because of that.”

He smiled tolerantly upon her.

“Something has occurred to make you bitter, Nan.  You’re not like the girl I used to know before I went away to school.  If it will help to restore me to your previous good opinion, however, please believe that when I waved at you last night, simultaneously I made up my mind to make an early visit to the Sawdust Pile.  The discovery that these cattle have intruded upon you and your old father, because you were unable to defend yourselves and no one in Port Agnew would defend you, merely hastened my visit.  I couldn’t in decency come any earlier; could I, Nan?  It’s just half after eight.  And if you’re going to keep me standing at the gate, as if I were a sewing-machine agent instead of a very old friend, I may conclude to take offense and regret that I called.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!  Please forgive me, Donald.  I’m so much alone—­so very lonely—­I suppose I grow suspicious of people and their motives.”

“Say no more about it, Nan.  May I come in, then, to greet Caleb and your husband?”

“Father is in the house.  I’ll call him out, Donald.  As for my husband—­” She hesitated, glanced out across the bight, and then resolutely faced him.  “You cannot have heard all of the town gossip, then?”

“I hadn’t even heard of your marriage.  The first I knew of it was when his little nibs here hailed me, and asked me if I was his father.  Then he informed me he was your boy.  He’s a lovely child, Nan, and I have been the recipient of some of his extremely moist kisses.”