Mrs. Major Hill was in her element. This did not often happen, for in the remote prairie town of the Canadian Northwest, where her husband was stationed, there were few opportunities for match-making. And Mrs. Hill was—or believed herself to be—a born matchmaker.  
Major Hill was in command of the detachment of Northwest Mounted Police at Dufferin . Mrs. Hill was to declare that it was the most place to be found in Canada or out of it; but she did her very best to brighten it up, and it is only fair to say that the N.W.M.P., officers and men, seconded her efforts.
 
When Violet Thayer came west to pay a long-promised visit to her old schoolfellow, Mrs. Hill's cup of happiness bubbled over. In her secret soul she that Violet should never go back east unless it were post-haste to prepare a wedding trousseau. There were at least half a dozen among the M.P.s, and Mrs. Hill, after some reflection, settled on Ned Madison as the flower of the flock.
 
"He and Violet are simply made for each other," she told Major Hill the evening before Miss Thayer's arrival. "He has enough money and he is handsome and fascinating. And Violet is a beauty and a clever woman into the bargain. They can't help falling in love, I'm sure; it's fate!"
 
"Perhaps Miss Thayer may be booked elsewhere already," suggested Major Hill. He had seen more than one of his wife's card castles fall into heartbreaking ruin.
 
"Oh, no; Violet would have told me if that were the case. It's really quite time for her to think of settling down. She is twenty-five, you know. The men all go crazy over her, but she's dreadfully hard to please. However, she can't help Ned. He hasn't a single fault. I firmly believe it is foreordained."
 
And in this belief Mrs. Hill rested securely, but nevertheless did not fail to several feminine for the on of foreordination. It was a working belief with her that it was always well to have the gods in your debt.
 
Violet Thayer came, saw, and conquered. Within thirty-six hours of her arrival at Dufferin Bluff she had every one of the half-dozen eligibles at her feet, not to mention a score or more ineligibles. She would have been surprised indeed had it been otherwise. Miss Thayer knew her power, and was somewhat fond of exercising it. But she was a very nice girl into the bargain, and so thought one and all of the young men who frequented Mrs. Hill's drawing-room and counted it richly worth while merely to look at Miss Thayer after having seen nothing for weeks except flabby half-breed girls and blue-haired squaws.
 
Madison was foremost in the field, of course. Madison was really a nice fellow, and quite deserved all Mrs. Hill's encomiums. He was good-looking and well groomed—could sing and dance divinely and play the violin to perfection. The other M.P.s were all jealous of him, and more so than ever when Violet Thayer came. They did not consider that any one of them had the ghost of a chance if Madison entered the lists against them.
 
Violet liked Madison, and was very chummy with him after her own fashion. She thought all the M.P.s were nice boys, and they amused her, for which she was grateful. She had expected Dufferin Bluff to be very dull, and doubtless it would after a time, but for a change it was .
 
The sixth evening after her arrival found Mrs. Hill's room crowded, as usual, with M.P.s. Violet was looking her best in a distracting new gown— Fox afterwards described it to a brother officer as a " sort of rig between a cream and a blue and a brown"; she with all the members of her circle at first, but gradually narrowed down to Ned Madison, much to the delight of Mrs. Hill, who was around like a small, brilliant butterfly.
 
Violet was talking to Madison and watching John Spencer out of the tail of her eye. Spencer was not an M.P. He had some government post at Dufferin Bluff, and this was his first call at Poplar since Miss Thayer's arrival. He did not seem to be dazzled by her at all, and after his introduction had to a corner with Major Hill, where they talked the whole evening about the trouble on the Indian reservation at Lake.
 
Possibly this Miss Thayer. Possibly she considered it after the servile adulation of the M.P.s. At any rate, when all the latter were gathered about the piano singing a chorus with gusto, she shook Madison off and went over to the corner where Spencer, by the Major, whose was wanted, was sitting in state.
 
He looked up indifferently as Violet down on the beside him. Sergeant Robinson, who was watching them jealously from the corner beyond the palms, and would have given his eyes, or at least one of them, for such a favour, mentally vowed that Spencer was the dullest fellow he had ever put those useful members on.
 
"Don't you sing, Mr. Spencer?" asked Violet by way of beginning a conversation, as she turned her splendid eyes full upon him. Robinson would have lost his head under them, but Spencer kept his heroically.
 
"No," was his calmly brief reply, given without any bluntness, but with no evident intention of saying anything more.
 
In spite of her social experience Violet felt disconcerted.
 
"If he doesn't want to talk to me I won't try to make him," she thought crossly. No man had ever snubbed her so before.
 
Spencer listened immovably to the music for a time. Then he turned to his companion with a palpable effort to be civilly .
 
"How do you like the west, Miss Thayer?" he said.
 
Violet smiled—the smile most men found dangerous.
 
"Very much, so far as I have seen it. There is a flavour about the life here that I like, but I dare say it would soon pall. It must be horribly lonesome here most of the time, especially in winter."
 
"The M.P.s are always that it is," returned Spencer with a slight smile. "For my own part I never find it so."
 
Violet that his smile was very becoming to him and that she liked the way his dark hair grew over his forehead.
 
"I don't think I've seen you at Lone Poplar Villa before?" she said.
 
"No. I haven't been here for some time. I came up tonight to see the Major about the Loon Lake trouble."
 
"Otherwise you wouldn't have come," thought Violet. "Flattering—very!" Aloud she said, "Is it serious?"
 
"Oh, no. A squabble among the Indians. Have you ever visited the Reservation, Miss Thayer? No? Well, you should get some of your M.P. friends to take you out. It would be worth while."
 
"Why don't you ask me to go yourself?" said Violet audaciously.
 
Spencer smiled again. "Have I failed in politeness by not doing so? I fear you would find me an insufferably dull companion."
 
So he was not going to ask her after all. Violet felt piqued. She was also conscious of a sensation very near to disappointment. She looked across at Madison. How trim and dapper he was!
 
"I hate a bandbox man," she said to herself.
 
Spencer meanwhile had picked up one of Mrs. Hill's novels from the stand beside him.
 
"Fools of Habit," he said, glancing at the cover. "I see it is making quite a sensation down east. I suppose you've read it?"
 
"Yes. It is very and clever—all froth but delightful froth. Did you like it?"
 
Spencer balanced the novel reflectively on his slender brown hand.
 
"Well, yes, rather. But I don't care for novels as a rule. I don't understand them. The hero of this book, now—do you believe that a man in love would act as he did?"
 
"I don't know," said Violet amusedly. "You ought to be a better judge than I. You are a man."
 
"I have never loved anybody, so I am in no position to decide," said Spencer.
 
There was as little self-consciousness in his voice as if he were telling her a fact concerning the Loon Lake trouble. Violet rose to the occasion.
 
"You have an interesting experience to look forward to," she said.
 
Spencer turned his deep-set grey eyes squarely upon her.
 
"I don't know that. When I said I had never loved, I meant more than the love of a man for some particular woman. I meant love in every sense. I do not know what it is to have an affection for any human being. My parents died before I can remember. My only living relative was a old uncle who brought me up for shame's sake and kicked me out on the world as soon as he could. I don't make friends easily. I have a few acquaintances whom I like, but there is not a soul on earth for whom I care, or who cares for me."
 
"What a revelation love will be to you when it comes," said Violet softly. Again he looked into her eyes.
 
"Do you think it will come?" he asked.
 
Before she could reply Mrs. Hill upon them. Violet was wanted to sing. Mr. Spencer would excuse her, wouldn't he? Mr. Spencer did so obligingly. Moreover, he got up and bade his hostess good night. Violet gave him her hand.
 
"You will call again?" she said.
 
Spencer looked across at Madison—perhaps it was accidental.
 
"I think not," he said. "If, as you say, love will come some time, it would be a very unple............