Twenty-one years old, an' tell me now, what have ye ever accomplished?
When I was your age I'd be'n livin' in the bush north of 60 for two
years, an' could do my fifty miles on snowshoes an' carry a pack."

"Maybe I can't do fifty miles a day on snowshoes, and I'm sure it isn't
my fault I don't live north of 60. But I'm in a hurry; I promised to
help Mr. Wentworth pick out a toboggan cap. I stopped in to remind you
that you promised me a fur coat on my twenty-first birthday."

The old man regarded her thoughtfully. "So I did, so I did," he
repeated absently. "This Wentworth, now--he's been kickin' around an
uncommon lot, lately. Tell me again, who is he? What does he do for a
livin'?"

"Why, he's a civil engineer--hydraulic work is his specialty. He has
been employed by some company that intended to put in a power plant of
some kind on Nettle River, and either the company broke up, or they
found the plan was not feasible, or something, and they abandoned it.
So Mr. Wentworth isn't doing anything, at present. But he is a fine
fellow--so jolly, and so good looking, and he has a wonderful war
record. He was with the engineers in Russia."

"U-m-m, where d'ye get hold of his war record?"

"Why--why--he--he has told us about the things they did--his company."

"Um--hum," Old John was stroking his nose.

"But, if he's civil engineer, an' out of a job, you might tell him to
stop in a minute--after he gets the right color of a toboggan cap