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"That's the team from the Packard logging-camp, There's a man sitting on the front seat with the driver and he's got a rag around his head. There's some sort of a bed made in the bottom of the wagon; a man's lying down. I actually believe, Dad Temple " She broke off in a strange little gasp. Behind the wagon a man rode on horseback; the sun glinted on a revolver in his hand. They came closer.
Macallister's arts were not subtle, as Bartley even in the intoxication of her preference could not keep from seeing, still, in his mood, it was consoling to be singled out by her; it meant that even in a logging-camp he was recognizable by any person of fashion as a good-looking, well-dressed man of the world.
So he went, wondering why he had come, and the following morning, still wrapped in a mental fog, he departed for the logging-camp, but not until his sister Jane had had her long-deferred inning. While he was in the garage at The Dreamerie, warming up his car, Jane appeared and begged him to have some respect for the family, even though, apparently, he had none for himself.
She had read stories of lone, draggled women in logging-camps, toiling so hard they hadn't even time to comb their hair, but always wore it pulled back tight from their forehead. This wasn't a logging-camp, but she supposed there was very little difference. She was very quiet for awhile. Francis, turning finally, a little uneasy, found that she was quietly crying.
"That's a grand idea, and I'll act on it," Donald declared. "Well, it's too late to act on it to-day, Don. The up-river launch to the logging-camp left at seven o'clock. However, I have a job for you. We really need the Sawdust Pile for an extension of our drying-yard.
He had evidently had one of his encounters with a cheap clothier, in which the Jew had triumphed; but he had not yet visited a barber, and his hair and beard were as shaggy as they were in the logging-camp; his hands and face were as brown as leather. "But I'm as glad," Bartley added, "as if you had telegraphed you were coming. Of course, you're going to put up with us."
"Let me take yer hat," said Mamie. The hand she held out trembled slightly. Dennis perceived that she was thinner and paler. "Yer well fixed," he murmured. "An' happy as a clam, I reckon?" "I'd oughter be happy," said Mamie dubiously. Then she added hastily, "Never expected to see you in a logging-camp." "No? Wal, I kinder wondered how you was makin' it. You don't look extry peart, Mis' Barker.
Witherby looked up from the papers on his desk, and cleared his throat. When he overreached himself he was apt to hold any party to the transaction accountable for his error. Ever since he refused Bartley's paper on the logging-camp, he had accused him in his heart of fraud because he had sold the rejected sketch to another paper, and anticipated Witherby's tardy enterprise in the same direction.
"Oh, some people that Witherby met in Portland at Willett's, who used to have the logging-camp out here." "That Montreal woman!" cried Marcia, with fatal divination. Bartley laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Macallister and her husband. She's a regular case. She'll amuse you." Marcia's passionate eyes blazed. "She shall never come to my picnic in the world!" "No?" Bartley looked at her in a certain way.
"I should think you were running a seminary for young ladies, instead of a logging-camp," said Bartley. "No, but look at it: I'm in earnest about tea. You look at the tea drinkers and the coffee-drinkers all the world over! Look at 'em in our own country! All the Northern people and all the go-ahead people drink tea. The Pennsylvanians and the Southerners drink coffee.
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