“But,” said the girl, “you don’t know where the things are.”

“Well,” said Alton, smiling, “I figure I can find them.”

He laid the cups and dishes on the tray, gave it to Seaforth, and disappeared down a passage carrying the kettle, but not before Miss Townshead had noticed that while his comrade, who had apparently been used to the smoother side of life in England, displayed some awkwardness, everything the big rancher did seemed appropriate, and, because removing plates is not a man’s task, she wondered at it.  They came back presently, and by that time the girl, who had opened some of the packages, held a roll of fabric upon her knee.

“If you can find a splash anywhere I’ll forfeit a dollar.  Charley’s good at mopping up,” said Alton gravely.  “I’m afraid that stuff’s a little wet, but it was the Cayuse’s fault.  He started in kicking and burst the rope, you see.”

“It would have been wetter if it had gone into the lake,” said Seaforth.

“The lake?” said the girl.

Seaforth nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “It was on the Tyee trail the pony commenced kicking.”

The girl looked up sharply, and there was a subdued brightness in her eyes, for she had more than once shivered when leading her horse along that perilous trail.  Alton felt for his comrade’s leg under the table and kicked it grievously.

“There wasn’t any trouble, and the snow was soft,” said he.  “You’re going to make a dress of that stuff, Miss Nellie?”

“Yes,” said the girl.  “I could, however, wish the stuff was better.”

Alton smiled gravely.  “Of course!” he said.  “Still, it don’t count for much.  You would look like a picture in anything.”

Nellie Townshead glanced at him sharply, and for a moment there was a faint sparkle in her eyes, for she had a trace of temper.

“Whatever made you say that?” said she.

Alton laughed.  “I really don’t quite know.  I just felt I had to,” he said with a naive simplicity.  “I wouldn’t have done it if I had thought it would vex you.”

After this he listened while his comrade talked—­and Seaforth on occasion could talk gracefully—­until at last he said, “England’s not so very big, Miss Nellie.  I wonder if you know a place called Carnaby.”

“Yes,” said the girl.  “I once went to see rather a fine old hall there.”

“Carnaby Grange?” said Alton quietly.

“Yes,” said the girl with a trace of curiosity.  “We spent some little time in the grounds.  They lie deep in the woods, and there is a famous rose garden.”

“Yes,” said Alton.  “All kinds of roses.  And the old place?  Tell me about it!”

“Is very picturesque,” said the girl.  “It looked quiet and grey, and almost stately under its ivy that autumn day, but I could scarcely describe it you.  You have nothing like it in Canada.”

“No,” said Alton gravely.  “I have seen nothing like it in Canada.  But wasn’t there a lake?”