Going to the door to call Peter Rockett, she was surprised to see Rance Belmont, with his splendid sorrel pacer, drive into the yard.  He came into the house a few minutes afterwards and seemed to be making preparations to stay for supper.

A sudden resolve was formed in Mrs. Corbett’s mind as she watched him hanging up his coat and making a careful toilet at the square looking-glass which hung over the oilcloth-covered soap box on which stood the wash-basin and soap saucer.  She called to him to come into the pantry, and while she hurriedly peeled the potatoes she plunged at once into the subject.

“Rance,” she began, “you go to see Mrs. Brydon far too often, and people are talking about it.”

Rance shrugged his shoulders.

“Now, don’t tell me you don’t care, or that it’s none of my business, though that may be true.”

“I would never be so lacking in politeness, however true it might be!” he answered, rolling a cigarette.

Mrs. Corbett looked at him a minute, then she broke out, “Oh, but you are the smooth-tongued gent!—­you’d coax the birds off the bushes; but I want to tell you that you are not doing right hanging around Mrs. Brydon the way you do.”

“Does she object?” he asked, in the same even tone, as he slowly struck a match on the sole of his boot.

“She’s an innocent little lamb,” Mrs. Corbett cried, “and she’s lonely and homesick, and you’ve taken advantage of it.  That poor lamb can’t stand the prairie like us old pelters that’s weatherbeaten and gray and toughened—­she ain’t made for it—­she was intended for diamond rings and drawing-rooms, and silks and satins.”

Rance Belmont looked at her, still smiling his inexplicable smile.

“I can supply them better than she is getting them now,” he said.

Mrs. Corbett gave an exclamation of surprise.

“But she’s a married woman,” she cried, “and a good woman, and what are you, Rance?  Sure you’re no mate for any honest woman, you blackhearted, smooth-tongued divil!” Mrs. Corbett’s Irish temper was mounting higher and higher, and two red spots burned in her cheeks.  “You know as well as I do that there’s no happiness for any woman that goes wrong.  That woman must stand by her man, and he’s a good fellow, Fred is; such a fine, clean, honest lad, he never suspects anyone of being a crook or meanin’ harm.  Why can’t you go off and leave them alone, Rance?  They were doin’ fine before you came along.  Do one good turn, Rance, and take yourself off.”

“You ask too much, Mrs. Corbett.  I find Mrs. Brydon very pleasant company, and Mr. Fred does not object to my presence.”

“But he would if he knew how the people talk about it.”

“That is very wrong of them, and entirely unavoidable,” Rance answered, calmly, “But the opinion of the neighbors has never bothered me yet,” he continued; “why should it in this instance?”

Mrs. Corbett’s eyes flashed ominously.