Mary hovered about him with a world of tenderness in face and manner, but she would not let him talk, would not even let him tell her how or where he had come so near to finding his death on that sunny June afternoon.

It was not until he was asleep that she ventured to go back to the kitchen.

The men had removed all traces of their work by cleaning the splashed floor, and were busy now in the open space behind the house washing the mud-caked clothes which they had stripped from Mr.Selincourt, for those men who go on portage work must have at least an elementary knowledge of washing, or be content to go without clean shirts most of their time.
Mary beckoned for one of them to come to her.
"What happened to my father ?" she asked.

"I would not let him tell me, he is too thoroughly upset." "We don't know, Miss," replied the man who had made the timely suggestion about the bath.

"We were down on the bank, getting the boat ready that is to start for the south to-morrow, when a boat rowed by a girl came up the river.