him rather with a glance of just criticism than of admiration. "What's
your calling, then?"

Alec pulled his mitts out of his pocket and slapped his moccasins with
them to strike off the melting snow. "What do you think it is, now?"

Bates eyed him with some interest in the challenge. "I don't know," he
said at last. "Why didn't your brother want ye to do it?"

"'Twasn't grand enough. I came out naturally thinking I'd set up near my
brother; but, well, I found he'd grown a very fine gentleman--all honour
to him for it! He's a good fellow." There was no sneer just now.

Bates sat subjecting all he knew of Alec to a process of consideration.
The result was not a guess; it was not in him to hazard anything, even a
guess.

"What does your brother do?"

"Clergyman, and he has a school."

"Where?"

"Chellaston, on the Grand Trunk."

"Never heard of it. Is it a growing place?"

"It's thriving along now. It was just right for my business."

"Did the clergyman think your business was wrong?"