"There's a rig coming. It looks like visitors."

Soon afterward, Grant, whom they had met on the train, drew up his team
and helped his daughter down.

"We were passing and thought we'd look in," he said. "Found out
yesterday that you were located here."

George called Grierson to take the team, and leading the new arrivals
to the house, which was still in disorder, he found them seats in the
kitchen. It was rather roughly and inadequately furnished, and Edgar
had decided that Sylvia had spent little of her time there. After they
had talked for a while, a man, dressed in blue duck trousers, a
saffron-colored shirt, and an old slouch hat, which he did not remove,
walked in, carrying a riding quirt. Grant returned his greeting
curtly, and then the man addressed George.

"I heard you were running this place," he said.

"That's correct."

"Then I put in the wheat on your summer fallow; Mrs. Marston told me
to. Thought I'd come along and let you have the bill."

His manner was assertively offhand, and George did not ask him to sit
down.

"It's a very second-rate piece of work," George said. "You might have
used the land-packer more than you did."