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"Does that mean you're not sure that Winifred's discretion is equal to your own?" Sproatly's eyes twinkled. "In this particular case the trouble is that she's animated by a sincere attachment to Miss Ismay, and has, I understand, a rather poor opinion of Gregory. Of course, I don't know how far your views on that point coincide with hers." "Do you expect me to explain them to you?"
"I don't see a single patch on that jacket, and he has positively got his hair cut." "Is that an unusual thing in Mr. Sproatly's case?" Agatha asked. "Yes," said Mrs. Hastings. "It's very unusual indeed. What is stranger still, he has taken the old grease-spotted band off his hat, after clinging to it affectionately for the last twelve months."
Next moment Hawtrey and Sally approached the door, and as the light fell upon them the blood surged into Agatha's face, for she remembered the embarrassment in Sproatly's manner, and that he had done all he could to prevent her going back for the mitten. Then Hawtrey spoke to Sally, and there was no doubt whatever that he called her "My dear."
Agatha fancied that the soft hat, which fell shapelessly over part of Sproatly's face, needed something to replace the discarded band; but in another moment or two he entered the room. He shook hands with them both, and then sat down and smiled. "You are looking remarkably fresh, but appearances are not invariably to be depended on, and it's advisable to keep the system up to par," he said.
The thing, she felt, admitted of only one explanation. Sproatly's diplomacy had had a most unfortunate result, and she was sensible of an intolerable disgust. She had kept faith with Gregory, at least as far as it was possible, and he had utterly humiliated her. The affront he had put upon her was almost unbearable. In the meanwhile, Mrs.
If it's not quite neat to-morrow you'll do it again." Sproatly grinned as she went out. A few moments later the girl drove away through the bitter frost. Sally, who returned with her mother, passed a fortnight at Hawtrey's homestead before Watson decided that his patient could be entrusted to Sproatly's care.
Then they got him to bed, and Watson came back to the room where Sally was anxiously waiting. "His idea about his injuries is more or less correct, but we'll have no great trouble in pulling him round," he said. "The one point that's worrying me is the looking after him. One couldn't expect him to thrive upon slabs of burnt salt pork, and Sproatly's bread."
Next moment Hawtrey and Sally approached the door, and as the light fell upon them the blood surged into Agatha's face, for she remembered the embarrassment in Sproatly's manner, and that he had done all he could to prevent her from going back for the mitten. Hawtrey spoke to Sally, and there was no doubt whatever that he called her "My dear."
Winifred looked puzzled. "Well," she persisted, "he certainly bought them, and a fur cap, too. I was in the store when he did it, though I don't think he noticed me. They were lovely mittens such a pretty brown fur." Just then Mrs. Hastings, unobserved by either of them, looked up and caught Sproatly's eye. His face became suddenly expressionless, and he looked away. "When was that?" Agatha asked.
It had been one of Sproatly's duties since the accident to rise and renew the fire soon after midnight, and when Sally arrived he was outside the house, whip-sawing birch-logs and splitting them, an occupation he profoundly disliked. Spring had come suddenly, as it usually does on the prairie, and the snow was melting fast under a brilliant sun.
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