162 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 



Athabasca turned crimson and I followed suit — for being 

 a born blusher myself, and mortally hating it, I could never 

 refrain from sympathizing with others similarly afflicted. 



"Precisely, Father," replied Mrs. Spear, "that's exactly 

 what I thought. So you see you wouldn't be making any 

 sacrifice whatever, and such an arrangement would prove an 

 advantage all round. Everybody would be the happier for it, 

 and it seems to me to delay the wedding would be a vital mis- 

 take." 



From that moment until we left the table Athabasca con- 

 centrated her vision on her plate; and I wondered more than 

 ever who "Son-in-law" could be. Then an idea came to me, 

 and I mused: "We'll surely see him at Fort Consolation." 



After supper I discovered a new member of the household, 

 a chore-boy, twenty-eight years of age, who had come out from 

 England to learn farming in the Free Trader's stump lot, and 

 who was paying Mr. Spear so many hundred dollars a year 

 for that privilege, and also for the pleasure of daily cleaning 

 out the stable — and the pig pen. When I first saw him, I 

 thought: "Why here, at last, is 'Son-in-law.' ' But on second 

 consideration, I knew he was not the lucky man, for it was 

 evident the Spears did not recognize him as their social equal, 

 since they placed him, at meal time, out in the kitchen at the 

 table with their two half-breed maid-servants. 



That evening, while sitting around the big wood stove, we 

 discussed Shakespeare, Byron, Scott, and even the latest novel 

 that was then in vogue — "Trilby," if I remember right — for 

 the Spears not only subscribed to the Illustrated London 

 News and Blackwood's but they took Harpers and 

 Scribner's, too. And by the way, though Athabasca had 

 never been to school, her mother had personally attended to her 

 education. When bedtime arrived, they all peeled off their 

 moccasins and stockings and hung them round the stove to dry, 

 and then pitter-pattered up the cold, bare stairs in their bare 



