Christie whose thoughts had wandered from the letter, replied carelessly,—­

“I suppose it means that we are to wait here until father sends for us.”

“It means a good deal more.  It means that papa has had another reverse; it means that the assay has turned out badly for the mine—­that the further they go from the flat the worse it gets—­that all the gold they will probably ever see at Devil’s Ford is what they have already found or will find on the flat; it means that all Devil’s Ford is only a ‘pocket,’ and not a ‘lead.’” She stopped, with unexpected tears in her eyes.

“Who told you this?” asked Christie breathlessly.

“Fairfax—­Mr. Munroe,” stammered her sister, “writes to me as if we already knew it—­tells me not to be alarmed, that it isn’t so bad—­and all that.”

“How long has this happened, Jessie?” said Christie, taking her hand, with a white but calm face.

“Nearly ever since we’ve been here, I suppose.  It must be so, for he says poor papa is still hopeful of doing something yet.”

“And Mr. Munroe writes to you?” said Christie abstractedly.

“Of course,” said Jessie quickly.  “He feels interested in—­us.”

“Nobody tells me anything,” said Christie.

“Didn’t—­”

“No,” said Christie bitterly.

“What on earth did you talk about?  But people don’t confide in you because they’re afraid of you.  You’re so—­”

“So what?”

“So gently patronizing, and so ’I-don’t-suppose-you-can-help-it, poor-thing,’ in your general style,” said Jessie, kissing her.  “There!  I only wish I was like you.  What do you say if we write to father that we’ll go back to Devil’s Ford?  Mr. Munroe thinks we will be of service there just now.  If the men are dissatisfied, and think we’re spending money—­”

“I’m afraid Mr. Munroe is hardly a disinterested adviser.  At least, I don’t think it would look quite decent for you to fly back without your father, at his suggestion,” said Christie coldly.  “He is not the only partner.  We are spending no money.  Besides, we have engaged to go to Mr. Prince’s again next week.”

“As you like, dear,” said Jessie, turning away to hide a faint smile.

Nevertheless, when they returned from their visit to Mr. Prince’s, and one or two uneventful rides, Christie looked grave.  It was only a few days later that Jessie burst upon her one morning.

“You were saying that nobody ever tells you anything.  Well, here’s your chance.  Whiskey Dick is below.”

“Whiskey Dick?” repeated Christie.  “What does he want?”

“You, love.  Who else?  You know he always scorns me as not being high-toned and elegant enough for his social confidences.  He asked for you only.”