"Why?" asked Rhoda. "I’m sure that Bartley Crocker, who be pretty large-minded with all his faults, wouldn’t think none the worse of David for hanging up the handkerchers like this. He’d have done the same quick enough--or his mother would have done it for him. The men be good friends, and so they ought to be. But that’s no reason against it." Margaret admitted the justice of the argument. "If you think it can’t hurt anybody’s feelings, no doubt there’s no real harm," she said. "Of course not. Men be men, and not so tender and touchy as the likes of you. Why, what did Mr. Crocker say at your wedding? Nothing but what was friendly and kindly, I’m sure." "No, indeed--a beautiful speech; and ’twas as much for that reason as any other that I thought perhaps, if ever he came to see us and caught sight of the colours--" "He’ll be the first to say they look very fine," prophesied Rhoda. "All the same, I hope I shan’t be here when he calls--if he does call--for--" She stopped and Margaret answered. "Don’t say that. I’m sure, after what he spoke about you in his speech, you ought to let bygones be bygones and feel friendly." "That’s all past and forgiven," said Rhoda; "but I won’t pretend I feel to him like I do to other men." "I hope you don’t," replied Madge, laughing. "That’s just what I want to hear, Rhoda." The younger was puzzled and her sister-in-law, unconscious of the fateful moment, made the first move in a game that was to determine three destinies. "I hope you don’t. I hope you feel that Bartley Crocker be worth a little more thought than most men. At any rate, don’t set your mind against him. That wouldn’t be fair--to yourself, Rhoda." "My mind’s neither for nor against any human creature outside my own people. Why should it be?" "There’s no reason at all. You’re young and you’re terrible pretty, and not a soul that’s ever set eyes upon you feels anything but kind thoughts of you." Rhoda did not answer for a few moments; then a bewildered expression faded from her face. "I’ll go out and see the kennel now." "Leave that till the morning and unpack your things. ’Twill be dark as a wolf’s mouth over there." "I’ve brought my own lantern," said Rhoda; "I’ll go over now, if you’ll show me the way." The horn lantern was lighted and Madge led Rhoda where her husband had planted a row of flat stepping-stones across the river. The kennel and a byre stood there together, and four dogs whined a welcome to their new mistress. In the light of the flame their shining noses and lustrous eyes flashed out of the gloom, and they leapt about the women. David appeared; then Madge went in to wash up and prepare supper, while Rhoda stayed beside her brother.