But she pulled herself up.  It looked as if these delights were not for her.  She could enjoy them, if she wanted, in a few years’ time, but the risk was great.  Bob might go to pieces while she earned the money that would open the gate of fairyland.  Although she had checked the pace a little, he was going the wrong way fast.  Sadie knitted her dark brows as she nerved herself to make a momentous choice.

On the one hand there was everything she longed for; on the other much that she disliked—­monotonous work, the loneliness of the frozen prairie in the bitter winter, the society, at very long intervals, of farmers who talked about nothing but their crops, and the unslackening strain of activity in the hot summer.  Sadie thought of it with shrinking; she would soon get old and faded, and Bob, for whose sake she had done so, might turn from her.  Yet there was danger for him if they stayed at the settlement.  He had too many friends and whisky was always about.  She must save him from the constant temptation and must do so now.

For all that, she struggled.  There were specious arguments for taking the other course.  Bob had failed as a farmer and would certainly fail again if left to himself; but farming was the only occupation on the lonely prairie.  Loneliness was essential, because he must be kept away from the settlements.  But she saw the weak point in this reasoning, because Bob need not be left to himself.  She would, so to speak, stand over him and see he did his work.  Well, it looked as if she must let her ambitions go, and she got up, straightening her body with a little resolute jerk.

“Tell the boss I want him,” she said to the clerk.

Charnock came in, looking haggard and somewhat ashamed, and Sadie knew she had made the right choice when he sat down where the light touched his face.  For a moment he blinked and frowned.

“I wish you’d pull down that blind,” he said.  “The sun’s in my eyes, and I can’t get round the desk.”

Sadie did so, and then silently gave him Wilkinson’s bill.  He gazed at the paper with surprise, and colored.

“I’d no idea I lost so much.  Why did you pay him?”

“Because you can’t,” said Sadie.  “He thought you had a share in the business when he risked his dollars.”

“I suppose that means you told him I wasn’t your partner?”

“It does.”

“I see,” said Charnock, with some dryness.  “You thought he’d leave me alone if he knew I wasn’t worth powder and shot?  Well, I believe it’s very possible.”  Then he paused and smiled.  “I can imagine his astonishment when you asked for a bill, and must admit that you’re a sport.  All the same, it’s humiliating to have my friends told you don’t trust me with money.”

“The trouble is I can’t trust you.  Now you listen, Bob.  This tanking and gambling has got to be stopped.”

“I’m afraid I’ve given you some bother,” Charnock answered penitently.  “For all that, I’m not so bad as I was.  In fact, I really think I’m steadying down by degrees, and since you have paid my debts I don’t mind promising—­”