Katherine hesitated about what that answer should be.  In her heart of hearts she knew very well that she did not want to go away that evening.  Jervis had not been up the river for three days, so he would be almost sure to come that evening, and she wanted to be at home when he came, to see for herself that he was none the worse for the long immersion in the water, and the painful barefooted walk to Seal Cove.

But the hesitancy did not last long, and, setting her face in sterner lines than usual, Katherine told the man that she would certainly pay Miss Selincourt a visit that evening when her work was done.

If the work dragged a little after that, and the day lost something of the zest which had marked it before, no one guessed it but herself.  She was bright and cheerful, teasing Miles, when he came home, about some fancied indignity which he had received at the hands of the Indians, and rallying Mrs. Burton on the awful confusion wrought by her reforms in the store.

Not even to herself would Katherine admit how much she dreaded the simple friendly visit she had promised to pay that evening.  She was afraid that she would see some look or sign of what she feared most to know.  Mary Selincourt was a reserved, self-controlled girl, but it is her sort of nature which sometimes betrays itself most completely in moments of emotional strain, and Katherine at this time was very much like an ostrich, being disposed to believe that the thing she could not see did not exist.

’Duke Radford spent most of his days sitting in the sunshine.  He talked cheerfully, withal a trifle incoherently, to all of his friends and neighbours who came to gossip with him; but he was always at his best when Mr. Selincourt or Jervis Ferrars was there to talk to him, for they spoke of things right away from the ordinary course of daily life, and his mind was clearest about the matters which in other days had concerned him least.  But neither Mr. Selincourt nor Jervis Ferrars had been near for three days, and the invalid plainly moped, missing the companionship that cheered him most.

“I am so glad you are going over to sit with Mary to-night, because that will probably mean that Mr. Selincourt will come here, and he will be sure to cheer Father up,” Mrs. Burton said, when Katherine came in for a hurried cup of tea before finishing her work in the store.

“He does look tired and sad to-day,” Katherine answered wistfully.  She could bear her father’s condition better when he was cheerful and at ease, but when, as to-day, life seemed a burden to him, then her heart ached at the sight of his suffering.

The last half-hour in the store that evening was harder than the whole of the day which had gone before.  The heat was intense, the flies swarmed black in every direction, and, failing other food, appeared anxious to make a meal from Katherine’s face; while the customers who thronged the store in unusual numbers seemed all to require the articles most awkward and uncomfortable to serve.  There was a run on pickled pork, on brawn canned in Cincinnati, on soap, molasses, and lard; while at least four customers demanded rock brimstone, flour of sulphur, or some other variety of that valuable but homely remedy common to every back-country store.