Howat could not avoid a momentary, inward flicker of amusement at David Forsythe’s absolute freedom of choice.  He felt infinitely older than the other, wiser in the circuitous mysteries of being.  He pounded David on the back, exclaimed, “Good!”

“I don’t know whether to speak to Abner,” the other proceeded unfilially, “or the great Penny first.  I don’t care too much for either job.  It would be pleasanter to go to Caroline.  I have an idea she doesn’t exactly dislike me.”

“Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you,” Howat replied gravely; “but Caroline thinks a lot of you.  She has admitted it to me—­”

David Forsythe danced agilely about the more serious figure; he kicked Howat gaily from behind, ironically patted his cheek.  “Hell’s buttons!” he cried.  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?  You cast iron ass!  I’ll marry Caroline if I have to take her to a charcoal burner’s hut.  She would go, too.”

Howat Penny gripped the other’s shoulder, faced him with grim determination.  “Do you fully realize that Myrtle Forge, Shadrach, will be us?  They will be ours and our wives’ and childrens’.  We must stand together, David, whatever happens, whatever we may, personally, think.  The iron is big now, but it is going to be great.  We mustn’t fail, fall apart.  We’ll need each other; there’s going to be trouble, I think.”

David put out his hand.  “I didn’t know you felt like that, Howat,” he replied, the effervescent youth vanished from him too.  “It’s splendid.  We’ll hammer out some good blooms together.  And for the other, nothing shall ever make a breach between us.”

VI

They went down to the supper table silently, absorbed in thought.  David was placed where Mr. Winscombe had been seated, on Mrs. Penny’s right, and next to Myrtle.  Gilbert Penny maintained a flow of high spirits; he rallied every one at the table with the exception of, Howat noted, Ludowika.  Her hair was simply arranged and undecorated, she wore primrose with gauze like smoke, an apparently guileless bodice with blurred, warm suggestions of her fragrant body.  Howat was conscious of every detail of her appearance; she was stamped, as she was that evening, indelibly on his inner being.  He turned toward her but little, addressed to her only the most perfunctory remarks; he was absorbed in the realization that the most fateful moment he had met was fast approaching.  His father’s cheerful voice continued seemingly interminably; now it was a London beauty to which he affected to believe David had given his heart.  The latter replied stoutly: 

“I brought that back safely enough; it’s here the danger lies.  Humiliating to cross the ocean and then be lost in Canary Creek.”