"Oh, quite elderly. His hair is grey, or badly tinged at least."

The frown on Mrs. Sommerton's brow cleared away, and she smiled in a
manner that was cheering to the heart of her suppliant. He thought it
reminded him of the sun breaking through the clouds over the hills
beyond the St. Maurice.

"Why, Mr. Mason, how selfishly I've been acting, haven't I? You really
must forgive me. It is so funny, too, making you beg for a seat in your
own canoe."

"Oh no, it's your canoe--that is, after twelve o'clock to-night. That's
when your contract begins."

"The arrangement does not seem to me quite regular; but, then, this
is the Canadian woods, and not Boston. But, I want to make my little
proviso. I do not wish to be introduced to this man; he must have no
excuse for beginning a conversation with me. I don't want to talk
to-morrow."

"Heroic resolution," murmured Mason.

"So, I do not wish to see the gentleman until I go into the canoe. You
can be conveniently absent. Mrs. Perrault will take me down there; she
speaks no English, and it is not likely he can speak French."

"We can arrange that."

"Then it is settled, and all I hope for is a good day to-morrow."