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Mary Carey was too shy because she loved him, and secretly and fondly hoped and doubted that he cared for her to be seen dancing more than once with Harry Dale, so he shared Bertha Buckolt, the best girl dancer there, with Jim Carey, who danced with his sister when Harry was dancing with Bertha Buckolt, and who seemed, for some reason best known to himself, to be perfectly satisfied with the arrangement.
Dinner went on very moodily, in spite of Aunt Emma, until at last Jim spoke almost for the first time, save for a long-whispered and, on his part, repentant conversation with his mother. "Look here, Mary!" said Jim. "What did you throw Harry Dale over for?" "Don't ask me, Jim." "Rot! What did he do to you? "Well, then, ask Bertha Buckolt. She saw him last." "What!" cried Jim.
"Well, why didn't she get the writings?" retorted Uncle Abel. Half-way to Buckolts' Mary met Bertha Buckolt herself, coming over to the selection for the first time since the night of the party. Bertha started forward to kiss Mary, but stopped short as Mary stood stock-still and faced her, with her hands behind her back. "Why! whatever is the matter, Mary?" exclaimed Bertha.
"Now, listen to me, Uncle Abel," said Mary, trembling now. "Are you sure you saw Harry Dale and Bertha Buckolt at Buckolts' Gate after he left here that night?" "Yes. An' what's more, I seen young Tommy there ridin' on his pony along by the Spur a little while after, an' he muster seen them too, if he's got a tongue." Mary turned quickly to her brother.
"Well, all I can say," said Tommy, quietened now, "is that I seen her at Buckolts' Gate that night. I was comin' home from Two-Mile Flat, and I met Jim with his packhorse about a mile the other side of Buckolts', and while we was talkin' Harry Dale caught up, so I jist said 'So-long' an' left 'em. And when I got to Buckolt's Gate I seen Bertha Buckolt.
"I mean," said Uncle Abel, lowering his voice a little, "that I seen Harry Dale and Bertha Buckolt at Buckolts' Gate that night I seen it all " "At Buckolts' Gate!" cried Mary. "Yes! at Buckolts' Gate! Ain't I speakin' loud enough?" "And where were you?" "Never mind wheers I was. I was comin' home along the ridges, and I seen them. I seen them say good-bye; I seen them hug an' kiss "
Old Buckolt and Carey and Reid smoked socially under the grape-vines, with bottles of whisky and glasses, and nudged each other and coughed when they wanted to laugh at Old Abel Albury, who was, for about the first time in his life, condescending to explain. He was explaining to them what thund'rin' fools they had been.
Then Tommy said, with that delightful tact which usually characterizes young Tommies: "Well, Mary needn't be so cocky about Harry Dale, anyhow. I seen him New Year's Eve when we had the dance. I seen him after the dance liftin' Bertha Buckolt onter her horse in the dark as if she couldn't get on herself she's big enough.
There were thunderstorms about, and Mary had repented sufficiently with regard to Bertha Buckolt to wear on her shoulders a cape which Bertha had left behind her last night.
But there was tall, graceful, pink-and-white Bertha Buckolt, blue-eyed and blue-black-haired, and little Mary Carey with the kind, grey eyes and red-gold hair; there was Mary's wild brother Jim, with curly black hair and blue eyes and dimples of innocence; and there was Harry Dale, the drover, Jim's shearing and droving mate, a tall, good-looking, brown-eyed and brown-haired young fellow, a "better-class" bushman and the best dancer in the district.
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