"
Winston's face was grave. "I heard In Winnipeg that most of the
smaller men, who had lost courage, were doing the same thing. That
means a very small crop of western hard, and millers paying our own
prices. Somebody must stop the Colonel."
"Well," said Macdonald dryly, "I wouldn't like to be the man, and after
all, it's only your opinion. As you have seen, the small men here and
in Minnesota are afraid to plow."
Winston laughed softly. "The man who makes the dollars is the one who
sees farther than the crowd. Any way, I found the views of one or two
men who make big deals were much the same as mine, and I'll speak to
Miss Barrington."
"Then, if you wait a little, you will have an opportunity. She is
here, you see."
Winston looked disconcerted. "She should not have been. Why didn't
you send her home? There'll be snow before she reaches Silverdale."
Macdonald laughed. "I hadn't noticed the weather, and, though my wife
wished her to stay, there is no use in attempting to persuade Miss
Barrington to do anything when she does not want to. In some respects
she is very like the Colonel."
The farmer led the way into another room, and Winston flushed a little
when the girl returned his greeting in a fashion which he fancied the
presence of Mrs. Macdonald alone rendered distantly cordial. Still, a
glance through the windows showed him that delay was inadvisable.
"I think you had better stay here all night, Miss Barrington," he said.
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