When George returned from Winnipeg, Edgar took him to the granary.

"You may as well look at the seed Grant sent you, and then you\'ll be able to thank him for it," he said. "It\'s in here; I turned out the common northern stuff you bought to make room."

"Why didn\'t you put it into the empty place in the barn?" George asked.

"I wasn\'t sure it would go in; there\'s rather a lot of it," Edgar explained, with a smile.

George entered the granary and stopped, astonished, when he saw the great pile of bags.

"Is all of that the new seed?" he asked incredulously.

"Every bag," said Edgar, watching him.

George\'s face reddened. He was stirred by mixed emotions: relief, gratitude, and a feeling of confusion he could not analyze.

"Grant must have sent the whole carload!" he broke out.

"As a matter of fact, he sent most of it. Grierson and I hauled it in; and a tough job we had of it."

"And you took it all, without protesting or sending me word?"

"Yes," said Edgar coolly; "that\'s precisely what I did. You need the stuff; Grant meant you to have it, and I didn\'t want to offend him."

"I suppose you have some idea what that seed is worth?"

"I dare say I could guess. Our people at home once experimented with some American seed potatoes at three shillings each. But aren\'t you putting the matter on a rather low plane?"

George sat down and felt for his pipe.

"I feel that you have played a trick on me. If you had only let me know, I could have objected."

"Just so; that\'s why I kept quiet," Edgar laughed. "The seed\'s here and you ought to be thankful. Anyway, Grant won\'t take it back."

"What have I done that I should get this favor?" George said half aloud.

"That\'s so characteristic!" Edgar exclaimed. "Why must you always be doing things? Do you imagine that whatever one receives is the result of so much exertion?"

"I don\'t feel the least interest in such quibbles."

"I can\'t believe it," Edgar rejoined. "You\'re more at home when you have a fence to put up, or a strip of new land to break." Then he dropped his bantering tone. "There\'s nothing to be distressed about. Grant has been pretty generous, and I think he and Flora need thanking."

"That\'s true; they\'ve made me feel half ashamed. I never expected this."

"In my opinion, the sensation\'s quite unnecessary. You have given a few people a lift in your time, and I\'ve an optimistic notion that actions of the kind recoil on one, even though it\'s a different person who makes you some return."

"I wish you would stop talking!" George exclaimed impatiently.

Edgar mentally compared Flora Grant with Sylvia, in whom he disbelieved, and found it hard to restrain himself. It was, he felt, a great misfortune that George could not be made to see.

"Oh, well!" he acquiesced. "I could say a good deal more, if I thought it would do any good, but as that doesn\'t seem likely I\'ll dry up."

"That\'s a comfort," George said shortly.

He left the granary in a thoughtful mood, and on the following evening drove over to the Grant homestead. Its owner was busy somewhere outside when he reached it, but Flora received him and he sat down with satisfaction to talk to her. It had become a pleasure to visit the Grants; he felt at home in their house. The absence of all ceremony, the simple Canadian life, had a growing attraction for him. One could get to know these people, which was a different thing from merely meeting them, and George thought this was to some extent the effect of their surroundings. He had always been conscious of a closer and more intimate contact with his friends upon the mountain-side or the banks of some salmon river than he had ever experienced in a club or drawing-room. For all that, Flora sometimes slightly puzzled him. She was free from the affectations and restraints of artificial conventionality, but there was a reserve about her which he failed to penetrate. He wondered what lay behind it and had a curious feeling that Edgar either guessed or knew.

"Did you enjoy your visit to Winnipeg?" she asked.

"It was a pleasant change and I got through my business satisfactorily.
Of course, I didn\'t go for amusement."

Flora laughed.

"So I supposed; you\'re growing more Canadian every day. But you meant to make a visit to England, which couldn\'t have had any connection with business, last winter, didn\'t you?"

George\'s face grew serious. He had, she thought, not got over his disappointment.

"Yes," he said. "But there was nothing to be done here then."

"So the things that should be done invariably come first with you?"

"In this case—I mean as far as they concern the farm—it\'s necessary."

Flora considered his answer, studying him quietly, though she had some sewing in her hands. Supposing, as she had once thought, there was some English girl he had longed to see, he could have made the journey later, when his crop had been sown, even though this entailed some neglect of minor operations that required his care. He received, as she had learned with interest, few English letters, so there was nobody to whom he wrote regularly; and yet his disappointment when forced to abandon his visit had obviously been keen. There was, Flora thought, a mystery here.

"After all," she said, "the feeling you have indicated is pretty common in the Canadian wheat-belt."

"Then why should you expect me to be an exception? As a matter of fact, I\'m at least as anxious as my neighbors to be successful. That\'s partly why I\'ve come over to-night." His voice grew deeper and softer as he continued. "I want to thank you and your father for your surprising generosity."

"Surprising?" responded Flora lightly, though she was stirred by the signs of feeling he displayed. "Do you know you\'re not altogether complimentary?"

He smiled.

"You\'ll forgive the slip; when one feels strongly, it\'s difficult to choose one\'s words. Anyway, to get that seed, and so much of it, is an immense relief. I\'m deeply grateful; the more so because your action was so spontaneous. I haven\'t a shadow of a claim on you."

Flora put down her sewing and looked at him directly.

"I don\'t think you ought to say that—do you wish to be considered a stranger?"

"No," George declared impulsively. "It\'s the last thing I want.
Still, you see—"

She was pleased with his eagerness, but she checked him.

"Then, as you have a gift of making friends, you must take the consequences."

"I didn\'t know I had the gift. My real friends aren\'t plentiful."

"If you begin to count, you may find them more numerous than you think."

"Those I have made in Canada head the list."

The girl felt a thrill of satisfaction. This was not a compliment; he had spoken from his heart.

"After all, I don\'t see why you should insist on thanking me as well as my father, who really sent you the seed." She paused. "You didn\'t do so on the last occasion; I mean at the time when it was promised to you."

This was correct, and George was conscious of some embarrassment.

"Well," he said firmly, "I think I\'m justified."

Flora could not contradict him, and she w............