Withal he was so modest that these things became
known only by implication or hearsay, never by direct evidence. Mrs.
McPherson was not Scotch at all, but plain comfortable American,
redolent of wholesome cleanliness and good temper, and beaming with
kindliness and round spectacles. Never was such a doctor; never was
such a Mrs. McPherson; never was such a dinner! And they brought in
after-dinner coffee in small cups.
"Ah, ha! Mr. de Laney," laughed the doctor, who had been watching him
with quizzical eye. "We're pretty bad, but we aren't got quite to
savagery yet."
Bennington hastened to disavow.
"That's all right," the doctor reassured him; "that's all right. I
didn't wonder at ye in this country, but Mrs. McPherson and mysel' jest
take a wee trip occasionally to keep our wits bright. Isn't it so, Mrs.
Mac?"
"It is that," said she with a doubtful inner thought as to the
propriety of offering cream.
"And as for you," went on the doctor dissertatively, "I suppose ye're
getting to be somewhat of a miner yourself. I mind me we did a bit of
assay work for your people the other day--the Crazy Horse, wasn't it? A
good claim I should judge, from the sample, and so I wrote Davidson.
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