The steamer which brought groceries and dry goods for the store was to take away sealskins, walrus-skins, narwhal ivory, whalebone, and blubber of various sorts, which had been accumulating in the fish shed since the fishing began.  This made Jervis as busy in his way as Katherine was in hers.  Indeed, the press of work was so great that Mary went down day after day to do the writing in the office at Seal Cove, while Mr. Selincourt, with his shirt sleeves rolled above his elbows, helped Jervis to pack skins and weigh blubber.

It was easy for Mary to get away, as most of her housework and a good deal of the cooking was done for her by the portage men who happened to be in residence at Roaring Water Portage.  When Mr. Selincourt hired men and boats at Temiskaming, he hired them for the whole summer, and planned their work to suit his own convenience.  There were two men to each boat, and after the first journey with luggage-laden boats the men found that they could manage the journey each way in a little over a fortnight.  So two pairs of them were always en route, while the third pair rested and did housework at the hut at Roaring Water Portage, taking their departure with mails when another pair of their companions returned from the lake.

When Mrs. Burton was troubled about anything it was sure to come out sooner or later, and one night during that week of bustle and hard work she spoke of the matter that was on her mind.  The sisters were brushing their hair before going to bed.  Somehow hair-brushing lends itself to confidential talk, especially when, as in this case, awkward things have to be put into speech, because a veil of hair will hide a good many emotions.

“Do you know, I believe that Mary cares for Mr. Ferrars,” Mrs. Burton blurted out, with considerable nervous trepidation, turning her back on Katherine, and wielding her brush as if her life depended on her accomplishing a given number of strokes per minute.

“What put such an idea into your head, you delightful old matchmaker?” demanded Katherine, with a ripple of amused laughter, while her brush went slower as she waited for the answer.

“A good many things,” Mrs. Burton said, warming to her subject, and feeling relieved already by the careless ease of Katherine’s manner.  “Mary always avoids Mr. Ferrars when it is possible to do so, and I have never once seen her touch his hand, though she shakes hands with every other person she meets.  I have even seen her shake hands with Oily Dave, a thing I would not do myself.”

“Am I to understand, then, that if one person will not shake hands with another it is a sign of being in love?” asked Katherine in a teasing tone.  “Because, if so, what about your own refusal to touch the hand of Oily Dave?”

Mrs. Burton laughed, and her heart felt lighter than for many days past; for if Katherine could laugh and make jokes in this fashion, it was plain there was no harm done.  So she drew a long breath and went on:  “I wish you would try to be serious for a few minutes and listen to me.  What is only fun to you may be grim earnest to poor Mary, and I like her so well that I do not care to think of her missing the best thing that life can give her.”