Still, because she had promised, she
persisted.
"No," she said. "That is why it would be ever so much nicer if you
would just think as I did."
Barrington looked at her steadily. "If you insist, I can at least hope
for the best," he said, with a gravity that brought a faint color to
the listener's cheek.
It was next day when Winston took his leave, and Maud Barrington stood
beside him, as he put on his driving furs.
"You told me there was something you wished me to do, and, though it
was difficult, it is done," she said. "My holding will be sown with
wheat this spring."
Winston turned his head aside a moment, and apparently found it needful
to fumble at the fastenings of the furs, while there was a curious
expression in his eyes when he looked round again.
"Then," he said, with a little smile, "we are quits. That cancels any
little obligation which may have existed."
He had gone in another minute, and Maud Barrington turned back into the
stove-warmed room very quietly. Her lips were, however, somewhat
closely set.
CHAPTER XII
SPEED THE PLOW
Winter had fled back beyond the barrens to the lonely North at last,
and though here and there a little slushy snow still lay soaking the
black loam in a hollow, a warm wind swept the vast levels, when one
morning Colonel Barrington rode with his niece and sister across the
prairie. Spring comes suddenly in that region, and the frost-bleached
sod was steaming under an effulgent sun, while in places a hardy flower
peeped through.
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