“What you said in there at the breakfast table, and what you’ve said here to me, does make a good deal of difference. If that’s all so—and, of course, I know it is so, when you tell me it is—what makes you keep on talking like you thought this young man and me might not take to each other? That he should have persuaded you into hiding him here in the Sorrers unbeknownst to me—I ain’t holding that up against him. Must have been but a boy at the time. You was only a little girl, Reckon he was scared. Didn’t know me, and had knowed you and your folks before. I reckon that was all there was to it, wasn’t it?” “Not—not quite all, Uncle Hank.” Hilda was trembling. Her face burned, her eyes wavered and fell away from his. “He—he did seem to know about you, and—there seemed to be something—something—” her voice failed her. After a moment, she was able to finish, in a husky whisper, “He didn’t feel friendly—to you.” “Sho!” Uncle Hank looked at her blankly. “Seemed to know me? I’ve been figgerin’ he was a son of the Masters that was part owner of the J I C company out there in Encinal. Rich eastern man, as I recollect it. Them the people?” “Yes,” said Hilda faintly. “Mr. Masters died just before Pearse came out West—you know—the time I hid him here.” “Left his share in the company to the boy,” Hank nodded. “Well, it ain’t anything against him to be a rich man’s son. Some of ’em are some account.” He spoke heavily. Hilda felt that he was making an effort. She hurried to help out. “Oh—he isn’t quite that. They had other children, grown up, that got most of what was left. They’d given Pearse a fine education—but he’s really sort of poor. He says it’s just a little share he has in the J I C. He wasn’t even sure he’d get that. But he loves this western country just the same as you and I do.” An appealing glance. “So that’s what brought him out here when Mr. Masters died—he came to get a job with the J I C. And he got it. And he worked awfully hard. He was promoted three times in the first year. And now he’s doing splendidly. He—” She stopped, looking entreatingly in his face. He said very quietly: “You think a heap of him, don’t you, Pettie?” “Oh, I do. And you will, too, Uncle Hank, when you know him.” “Well, dear,” he said slowly, “I’m bound to warn you that it sorta puts my bristles up—the idea of a young feller that’s a friend of yourn, and that I hain’t never seen, coming all set to be unfriendly with me—your guardian. It—Hilda”—when had he ever used her full name like that!—“it don’t look so good to me. Well—what is it, Buster?” as a head was poked in at the door. “Want me over at the north pasture, this morning? All right,” with apparent relief; then to Hilda, “Run tell Sam Kee to put me up a snack, Pettie. Have to make a day of it up there, I reckon. But if I ain’t on hand when your company first gets here, you and Miss Valery can make him welcome. Reckon I won’t be missed.”