“It is a moving tale,” said Thirlwell, with quiet sympathy.

He thought she felt it was necessary to defend her father, and she had done so.  Indeed, he admitted that one must respect the man who had, with uncomplaining patience, for years carried on his disliked task for his wife and children’s sake.  Longing for the woods and the silent trail, Strange must have found it irksome to count dollar bills and weigh groceries in the store; but he had done his duty, and borne hardship and failure when at last freedom came.  Still the girl must not know what he had become.

Agatha asked him a number of questions and then got up.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I will take the photograph and would like you to keep the specimen of ore.”

“I will keep it; but I wonder why you wish to give it me?”

She smiled.  “I believe in the lode and would like you to believe in it, too.  You are a mining engineer and can find out if there is much silver in the stone.”

Then she crossed the lawn to the hotel veranda and left Thirlwell thoughtful.

CHAPTER III

AGATHA MAKES A PROMISE

Next morning Thirlwell wrote to his employers, stating that he meant to take another week’s holiday, and smiled as he reflected that the letter would arrive too late for them to refuse.  The hotel was comfortable, he had met one or two interesting people, and was told the fishing was good; besides, he thought he would not be badly needed at the mine just then.  For all that, he was not quite persuaded that these were sufficient reasons for neglecting his work, and when he went through the hall with the letter in his hand he put it into his pocket instead of the box.  He would think over the matter again before the mail went out.  Then as he crossed the veranda Agatha came up from the beach and gave him a smile.

“You are out early,” Thirlwell remarked.

“I like the morning freshness and have been on the lake.”

“It looks as if you had hurt yourself,” said Thirlwell, noting a small wet handkerchief twisted round her hand.

Agatha laughed.  “Not seriously; I blistered my fingers trying to paddle.  I have been practising since I came, but it is difficult to keep the canoe straight when you are alone.”

“That’s so,” Thirlwell agreed.  “The back-feathering stroke is hard to learn.”

“For all that, I mean to learn it before I go.”

“Perhaps I could teach it you.  How long have you got?”

“A fortnight,” she said, moving on, and when she left him Thirlwell went to the mail-box and dropped in his letter.

Afterwards he felt annoyed that he had done so, and wondered whether he had weakly given way to a romantic impulse, but next morning he went down to the beach and found the girl launching a canoe.  Making her sit near the middle, he knelt in the stern and drove the canoe across the shining water with vigorous strokes.  Agatha wore a white jersey and had left her hat, and he noted the color the cool wind brought to her face and how the light sparkled on her hair.