Nowhere did Spiser's appearance seem to evoke enthusiasm. Nan was not thinking of this, but of the startled, even shocked look in Ben Evans's eyes when they rested upon her in recognition. There was no mistaking the surprise and disappointment they held.
Her voice and manner were strained and self-conscious when the cart stopped at the door of the cottage and Spiser raised his arms to help her out, while all the occupants of the bunk-house across the road looked on in silence.
Her trunk, along with a small papier-maché affair of Miss Spiser's, was on the porch. Perhaps in all her life Nan never had known a more uncomfortable moment than when Spiser opened the door of the guest-chamber and told her to make herself entirely at home.
"We'll have the cook bring supper over here," said Spiser as he was going out.
Nan protested hastily:
"But I'd rather—much rather—have supper where the rest of them do!"
Her preference had no weight with him.
"I don't eat with my men when I can avoid it," he returned curtly.
