“I must make friends with those dogs before I am many hours older, or I shall be afraid to stir away from the house,” Mary said to herself, with a little shiver, as she watched the big brutes careering round.

But they were wanted for work, not play, so their gambols came to a speedy end.  The boy loaded each one with packages, and, picking up a couple of bundles himself, started up the portage path, closely followed by the dogs, which perfectly understood the work that was required of them.

Then the girl rose to her feet, and stood for a moment gazing at the golden glories of the setting sun.  She stretched her arms out with a quick, eager movement, as if asking for something she yearned to possess, then dropped them to her side again, and turning, proceeded to load the remainder of the packages and bundles on to her own shoulders.

If only the river had not flowed between, Mary might have gone to her assistance.  As it was, she stood watching the bowed figure go slowly up the portage path to disappear among the bushes, then she also turned to retrace her steps to the hut.  But the tired girl was very much in Mary’s thoughts that evening.  Why had she stretched out her arms to the glowing west with such a gesture of entreaty?  Of course it might have been just girlish dissatisfaction with a toilsome, colourless life, or it might be that there were ambitions and desires which had to be sternly repressed.

“I wonder if we shall be friends?” she said presently, speaking aloud because she had entirely forgotten that she was not alone.

“Friends with whom?” asked her father sleepily.  He was still sitting on the bench by the hut door, and Mary was leaning against the doorpost.  She had been standing so ever since she came down the hill, and her thoughts were still busy with the girl who had looked so tired and carried such heavy burdens.

“I have seen a girl this evening, such a pretty girl, and so graceful in her movements, but she was doing a portage as if she were a man, and I felt that I should like to know her,” Mary answered, her voice and manner more dreamy than usual.  Indeed, it seemed as if the place had laid a spell upon her already.

“Probably you will have what you want, and then you will find yourself disappointed.  You must not expect to find much refinement and culture in a wild place like this,” Mr. Selincourt said.

“I do not look for it.  But however rough or illiterate this girl may be, I think she has a soul, a longing for something she does not possess,” went on Mary, who was weaving fancies and theories together in quite a remarkable fashion for her.

“Most women long for what they don’t possess, and some men do the same,” replied Mr. Selincourt, laughing a little.  Then he rose and stretched himself, saying:  “I believe I will go to bed, for I am so tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open.  It is so late that Jervis Ferrars will hardly come to-night now, although I should have been glad to see him, for I am really anxious to know how the fishing is going.”