"Life isn't a bit simple when you are grown up, is it?" "Life is always simple, if one does one's duty." "That is a soldier's answer; it is not easy for me to enter into that spirit. I have my art, and no sense of duty at all." "Your position is equally strange to me; but duties will discover themselves--later. A life without duties is impossible." "I know what you mean, but I do not intend to allow any duty to circumscribe my art." This she uttered defiantly. "I don't like to hear you say that. Life is greater than art." She laughed. "How different our points of view! You are Anglo-Saxon, I am French. Art counts far more with us." "Was your mother French? I did not know that." "Yes--a Canadian. I have her nature rather than that of my father." "Sometimes I think you are your father's daughter. Did your mother live to enjoy her husband's success?" "Not to the full. Still, she had a nice home in Alta, where I was born. She died before he was elected Senator." They had nearly reached the agency now, and she shook off her sober mood. "Shall we go in with a dash?" "I'm agreed." She put quirt to her horse and they entered the lane at a flying gallop. As he assisted her to alight at the studio door he said: "I hope your father will not require you to join him in the East. It is a great pleasure to have you here." His voice touched something vibrant in her heart. "Oh, I don't think he will when he fully understands the situation. I'm sure I don't want to go. I shall write him so." Curtis rode away elate as a boy. Something which he did not care to define had come to him from her, subtle as a perfume, intangible as light, and yet it had entered into his blood with most transforming effect. He put aside its analysis, and went about his duties content with the feeling that life was growing richer day by day. Wilson, seeing his shining face, sighed and said to himself: "I guess the Major has found his girl. He's a lucky dog. I wish I could pick up even a piece of plain calico, I'd be satisfied." And he ran through a list of the unmarried women within reach, to no result, as usual. Meanwhile the supply-wagons had arrived, and Captain Maynard was overseeing the laying-out of the camp just below the agency. Lieutenant Payne and his command returned at five o'clock, and in a short time the little village of white tents was in order. Curtis came over to insist that the officers take dinner with them at "the parsonage," and, as Captain Maynard had already spoken of the good company and the excellent dinner he had enjoyed in the middle of the day, Lieutenant Payne was quite ready to comply, especially as his lunch had been as light as his breakfast. The meal was as enjoyable as the mid-day dinner, and the Parkers derived much comfort from the presence of the soldiers. "I guess I'm not fitted to be a pioneer artist," Parker confessed, and the hearty agreement he met with quite disconcerted him.