“I told you I wanted thirty thousand dollars,” said Winston quietly.

“You’ve got them,” said Graham.  “When the next balance comes out you’ll have a good many more.  The question is, what you’re going to do with them now they’re yours?”

Winston took out a letter from Dane and passed it across to Graham.

“I’m sorry to tell you the Colonel is getting no better,” it ran.  “The specialist we brought in seems to think he will never be quite himself again, and, now he has let the reins go, things are falling to pieces at Silverdale.  Somebody left Atterly a pile of money, and he is going back to the old country.  Carshalton is going too, and, as they can’t sell out to any one we don’t approve of, the rest insisted on me seeing you.  I purpose starting to-morrow.”

“What happened to Colonel Barrington?” asked Graham.

“His sleigh turned over,” said Winston, “Horse trampled on him, and it was an hour or two before his hired man could get him under shelter!”

“You would be content to turn farmer again?”

“I think I would,” said Winston, “At least, at Silverdale.”

Graham made a little grimace.  “Well,” he said resignedly, “I guess it’s human nature, but I’m thankful now and then there’s nothing about me but my money that would take the eye of any young woman.  I figure they’re kind of useful to wake up a man so he’ll stir round looking for something to offer one of them, but he’s apt to find his business must go second when she has got it and him, and he has to waste on house fixings what would give a man a fair start in life.  Still, it’s no use talking.  What have you told him?”

Winston laughed a little.  “Nothing,” he said.  “I will let him come, and you shall have my decision when I’ve been to Silverdale.”

It was next day when Dane arrived at Winnipeg, and Winston listened gravely to all he had to tell him.

“I have two questions to ask,” he said.  “Would the others be unanimous in receiving me, and does Colonel Barrington know of your mission?”

“Yes to both,” said Dane.  “We haven’t a man there who would not hold out his hand to you, and Barrington has been worrying and talking a good deal about you lately.  He seems to fancy nothing has gone right at Silverdale since you left it, and others share his opinion.  The fact is, the old man is losing his grip tolerably rapidly.”

“Then,” said Winston quietly, “I’ll go down with you, but I can make no promise until I have heard the others.”

Dane smiled a little.  “That is all I want.  I don’t know whether I told you that Maud Barrington is there.  Would to-morrow suit you?”

“No,” said Winston.  “I will come to-day.”

It was early next morning when they stepped out of the stove-warmed car into the stinging cold of the prairie.  Fur-clad figures, showing shapeless in the creeping light, clustered about them, and Winston felt himself thumped on the shoulders by mittened hands, while Alfreton’s young voice broke through the murmurs of welcome.