Fort Garry was reached without incident, although, to Katherine’s secret dismay, her father had not spoken to her once, but had just gone moodily forward with his head hanging down, and dragging the sledge after him.  He roused up a little when the fort was reached, and talked to Peter M’Crawney, the agent, an eager-faced Scot with an insatiable desire for information on all sorts of subjects.  Mrs. M’Crawney was an Irishwoman who was always sighing for the mild, moist climate and the peat reek of her childhood’s home.  But Peter knew when he was well off, and meant to stick to his post until he had saved enough money to live without work.

“Teaching school, are you?  Well it’s myself that would like to be one of your scholars, for it’s bonny you look with that scarlet thing wrapped round your head!” exclaimed Mrs. M’Crawney in an admiring tone, when Katherine sat down to have a talk with her whilst ’Duke Radford did his business with the agent.

“You can come if you like; we don’t have any age limit at Roaring Water Portage,” Katherine answered with a laugh.  She had to be bright and vivacious despite the heaviness of her heart, for it would never do to display her secret uneasiness on her father’s account, or to betray his changed condition to strangers.

“And pretty I should look at my age, sitting among the babies learning to do strokes and pothooks,” the Irishwoman said, echoing the laugh.  Then she began to question Katherine eagerly concerning the news which had filtered through into the solitudes from the great world outside.  “They are saying that the Mr. Selincourt who has bought the fishing fleet will come here when the waters open; but wherever will he stay?”

“I don’t know; perhaps he will have one of the huts down at Seal Cove, although they are very dirty.  I think if I were in his place I should have a new hut built, or else live in a tent,” Katherine answered.

“He will have a hut built, I expect; then perhaps if he likes the place he will come every year.  Although it’s funny the whims rich people have, to be coming to a place like this, when they might be living in a civilized country, with everything that heart could desire within a hand’s reach,” said Mrs. M’Crawney with a toss of her head.

“I suppose being able to have all they want spoils them so much that they are always wanting a change.  But if we don’t start we shall be late in getting home, and travelling is very bad over the broken ground at the end of the bay,” Katherine said, as she rose and began to draw her scarlet cloud closer round her head again.

Her father was still talking to Peter M’Crawney when she came in search of him, but he looked so much relieved at the interruption that she could only suppose the agent had been talking overmuch about the rich Englishman who was expected in that remote quarter of the world next spring, when the waters were open.