“I will be ready in ten minutes,” she said.

Winston waited at least twenty, very impatiently, but when at last the girl appeared, handed her with quiet deference into the sleigh, and then took his place, as far as the dimensions of the vehicle permitted, apart from her.  Once he fancied she noticed it with faint amusement, but the horses knew what was coming, and it was only when he pulled them up to a trot again on the slope of a rise that he found speech convenient.

“I am glad we are alone, though I feel a little diffidence in asking a favor of you because unfortunately when I venture to recommend anything you usually set yourself against it,” he said.  “This is, in the language of this country, tolerably straight.”

Maud Barrington laughed.  “I could find no fault with it on the score of ambiguity.”

“Well,” said Winston, “I believe your uncle is going to sell wheat for you, and let a good deal of your land go out of cultivation.  Now, as you perhaps do not know, the laws which govern the markets are very simple and almost immutable, but the trouble is that a good many people do not understand their application.”

“You apparently consider yourself an exception,” said the girl.

Winston nodded.  “I do just now.  Still, I do not wish to talk about myself.  You see, the people back there in Europe must be fed, and the latest news from wheat-growing countries does not promise more than an average crop, while half the faint-hearted farmers here are not going to sow much this year.  Therefore when the demand comes for Western wheat there will be little to sell.”

“But how is it that you alone see this?  Isn’t it a trifle egotistical?”

Winston laughed.  “Can’t we leave my virtues, or the reverse, out of the question?  I feel that I am right, and want you to dissuade your uncle.  It would be even better if, when I return to Winnipeg, you would empower me to buy wheat for you.”

Maud Barrington looked at him curiously.  “I am a little perplexed as to why you should wish me to.”

“No doubt,” said Winston.  “Still, is there any reason why I should be debarred the usual privilege of taking an interest in my neighbor’s affairs?”

“No,” said the girl slowly.  “But can you not see that it is out of the question that I should intrust you with this commission?”

Winston’s hands closed on the reins, and his face grew a trifle grim as he said, “From the point of view you evidently take, I presume it is.”

A flush of crimson suffused the girl’s cheeks.  “I never meant that, and I can scarcely forgive you for fancying I did.  Of course I could trust you with—­you have made me use the word—­the dollars, but you must realize that I could not do anything in public opposition to my uncle’s opinion.”

Winston was sensible of a great relief, but it did not appear advisable to show it.  “There are so many things you apparently find it difficult to forgive me—­and we will let this one pass,” he said.  “Still, I cannot help thinking that Colonel Barrington will have a good deal to answer for.”