Helen forced a smile.  When they first came to the homestead, Stephen had changed his clothes for supper and afterwards devoted himself to her amusement, sometimes playing chess, and sometimes listening while she sang.  Then, as the days got longer, he had gradually grown careless, contenting himself with changing his jacket and half an hour’s talk, until at length he sat down to the meal in dusty overalls and hurried off afterwards.  Helen had tried to make excuses for him, but felt hurt all the same.  Stephen was getting slovenly and neglecting her.

“It’s plain that you must take off those muddy overalls,” she said.

They went back, and supper was delayed while Festing changed.  He forced himself to be polite when he joined his guests, but it cost him something, and the dishes Helen had carefully prepared were spoiled.  On the whole, he felt grateful to Sadie and Bob, who kept the others in good-humor and relieved him from the necessity of leading the talk; but he was glad when they left.

When the rigs melted into the shadowy plain he stood on the veranda and yawned.

“Well,” he remarked, “that’s over, and it will be some time before they need come back.  I hope none of them will think they have to ask us out in return.”

“You gave them a very plain hint,” Helen said bitterly.

Festing did not answer and went into the house.  He felt he had not been tactful, but he was very tired, and if he ventured an explanation might make things worse.  Besides, he must get up at four o’clock next morning.

Helen sat still for some time, looking out on the prairie.  She was beginning to feel daunted by its loneliness.  Except for Sadie Charnock, visitors seldom came to the farm.  Her neighbors lived at some distance, but she had hoped to plan a round of small reunions that would break the monotony.  Stephen, however, had shown her that she could expect no help from him, and had actually forgotten her first party.  She felt wounded; it was hard to think that so long as he had work to do she must resign herself to being left alone.

CHAPTER XVII

FESTING USES FORCE

A week or so after the supper party Festing started for the settlement with some pieces of a binder in his wagon.  He had bought the machine second-hand, and meant to replace certain worn parts before harvest began, although he doubted if this was worth while.  The drought was ripening the grain prematurely and some of it was spoiled, but he must try to save as much as possible.  Reaching the edge of the wheat, he stopped the team irresolutely, half tempted to turn back, because it seemed unlikely that the old binder need be used.

The wind had fallen; the mosquitoes were about and bit his face and neck.  Everything was strangely quiet, it was very hot, and masses of leaden cloud darkened the horizon.  Festing, however, had given up hoping for rain, which would not make much difference if it came now.