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When he had seen her with Dunne, in a dusty riding costume, he had not been especially attracted. He had not thought of her since. Now, she seemed a different person. He liked her level, direct glance, her low, clear voice, the quiet certainty of each movement of her brown hands. Farwell, though his acquaintance with the species was slight, recognized the hall mark.
Farwell disliked Sandy extremely, but with a self-control which he rarely exercised, forbore to retort. Hot-tempered as he was, he realized that he could not declare his belief in the guilt of any person without some evidence. His smouldering eye measured Sandy, taking him in from head to foot, and rested on the smoky golden tan of a pair of new moccasins which he wore.
Having apparently all the time there was, he had been a frequent spectator of operations, squatting by the hour watching the work. Occasionally his interest had been rewarded by a meal or a plug of tobacco. These things he had accepted without comment and without thanks. His taciturnity and gravity seemed primeval. "Huh! That old beat!" said Farwell contemptuously. "Every Indian can't trail.
Yes; I want to be a nurse, the best one I can be." Boswell understood the deeper truth. This girl, original, artistic, was foregoing much in accepting this safe, humble course. She expected no charity, nothing but a helpful interest. It was unusual and delightful. "I have a hundred dollars that Master Farwell gave me. It will help, and I can repay it by and by.
In this light talk, half serious, half playful, he reassured Priscilla and claimed for himself what his deformity often retarded. "Already you seem my friend. Mr. Farwell said you would be." Priscilla's eyes did not shrink now. The soul of the man had, in some subtle fashion, transformed him. She began to succumb to that power of Boswell's that had held many men and women even against their wills.
Then to Chicago, where she spoke at a suffrage matinee in Farwell Hall and at the Cook county annual suffrage convention, and dined at Robert Collyer's; back to Iowa, speaking at Burlington, Davenport, Mount Pleasant and Ottumwa; over into Nebraska once more, from there returning to Illinois; into Indiana, thence to Milwaukee and points in Wisconsin; and once more to Chicago, where, as was often the case, she was the guest of Mr. and Mrs.
At the calm words of the nurse he turned quickly toward the bed with a shudder. "Her determination to die!" he repeated in an awed whisper. Miss Farwell was watching him curiously. He whispered half to himself, wonderingly, "Why should she wish to die?" "Why should she wish to live?" The nurse's cold tones startled him. He turned to her perplexed, wondering, speechless.
"So this is what I've come to!" he muttered as he buried the poor brute, while the tears fell from his eyes and the other dog whined dolorously beside him "broken hearted over a mongrel!" But he got another dog! For a time Farwell vigorously set himself against depending upon Priscilla Glenn as a support in his narrowing sphere.
"Not with me," he declared stoutly. "Not a bit. You didn't blow up the dam. Even if you had " "Even if I had " "I wouldn't care," Farwell blurted. "Thank the Lord I'm not narrow-minded." Sheila laughed. Her estimate of Farwell did not credit him with wideness of outlook. But her reply was prevented by the thud-thud of rapid hoofs. A horse and rider loomed through the dark.
Harry dismissed the negro woman with a few kind words, and the promise that he would send for her if she could help them in any way. Then when he had sent the others away from the room and the hallway he turned to the nurse. "Miss Farwell, I am sorry that I was forced to send for you, but you can see that there was nothing else to do.
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