If Caleb had expected his unadorned recitation of the boy's appearance
to make any impression upon his hearer he would have been disappointed.
But, without any confessed reason for so doing, Caleb had aimed rather
at the opposite effect. And Allison turned from it with a large,
matter-of-fact indifference, to rise and bow to Sarah Hunter, who
appeared that moment in the doorway.
"Surely--surely," he echoed Caleb's suggestion. "Take him down and
give him a ride! McLean'll be glad of the chance to show someone his
pet buzz-saws and things. I'll walk down with you, myself, after
breakfast. I may be away for a day or two, and I want to leave
directions for changes to be incorporated while I'm gone."
At the table that morning Caleb noted that there was no hesitation in
Steve's selection from the silver beside his plate, no waiting to
follow in the lead of Sarah Hunter's choice. He noticed, too, that the
boy's eyes did not once lift to those of Barbara Allison, opposite him.
And while the little girl from time to time joined in the conversation,
he not once opened his mouth to speak, until they were almost ready to
rise from their places.
Allison had been growling genially at the lack of water and the
prolonged drouth which was burning the pasturage to a crisp and
juiceless brown.
"If that everlasting sun would only stop shining for a while," he said,
"if it'd only rain a bit, I'd like to take a trip back north,
a-fishing, before it gets too late in the season.
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