“I du know. I had tu cut it out ov me, bhoy. Bhut I hov no right tu counsel ye that same. Ye will go if ye will, Ted Douglas. An’ if ye bring him back I’ll give him that trouncin’ me fingers was achin’ tu give tu him lasht week. Good-night, thin. Ye’ll see me agin befure ye go?”
“I can’t leave Mains till shearin’s done,” said Ted, heavily. “There ain’t nobody kin take my place through shearin’. That’ll be a month if the weather holds up, an’ God only knows where he’ll be gone to. But I ain’t got the right to leave Mains in the shearin’.”
He went out without more words, and took the beaten track home through the warm dewy evening. At close of the fourth mile, with the smoke of the whares rising soft grey from the rise beyond, he met with Maiden, and halted for the gay meeting all the township took from her.
“Did you see Crellin’s cart across the Flat, Ted? No? Then I’ll have my wits to cool a half-hour at the river. Ted, I been helpin’ Miss Effie pack. She’s goin’ down to town to-morrow, you know, an’ I been takin’ her up some sewin’. I’ll come round and lend Buck a hand next time you’re goin’ campin’. Shall I?”
“You’ll be welcome,” said Ted, absently, and tramped on.
