"It doesn't matter," he laughed; "they won't be consulted. It's the
other people who pull the strings, and they're adopting a forward
policy--rush them all in; it's their lookout when they get here.
That's my opinion; though I'll own that I know remarkably little about
western Canada."

"You won't admit he's right," George said to the girl.

She looked grave.

"Sometimes," she answered, "I wonder."

Then she turned to West.

"You don't seem impressed with the country," she said.

"As a rule, I try to be truthful. The country strikes me as being
pretty mixed, full of contrasts. There's this place, for instance; one
could imagine they had meant to build a Greek temple, and now it looks
more like a swimming-bath. After planning the rest magnificently, why
couldn't they put on a roof that wouldn't leak?"

"It has been an exceptionally heavy rain," the girl reminded him.

"Just so. But couldn't somebody get a broom and sweep the water out?
Our unimaginative English folk could rise as far as that."

She laughed good-humoredly, and her father sauntered up to them.

"Any news of the train yet?" he asked.