Nothing
ever really shook the place out of a wholesome control and composure. Now
and then, however, the flag of distress was hoisted, and everybody in the
place--from Patsy Kernaghan, the casual, at one end of the scale, and the
Young Doctor, so called because he was young-looking when he first came
to the place, who represented Askatoon in the meridian of its intellect,
at the other--had sudden paralysis. That was the outstanding feature of
Askatoon. Some places made a noise and flung things about in times of
distress; but Askatoon always stood still and fumbled with its
collar-buttons, as though to get more air. When it was poignantly moved,
it leaned against the wall of its common sense, abashed, but vigilant and
careful.
That is what it did when Mr. and Mrs. Joel Mazarine arrived at Askatoon
to take possession of Tralee, the ranch which Michael Turley, abandoning
because he had an unavoidable engagement in another world, left to his
next of kin, with a legacy to another kinsman a little farther off. The
next of kin had proved to be Joel Mazarine, from one of those stern
English counties on the borders of Quebec, where ancient tribal
prejudices and religious hatreds give a necessary relief to hard-driven
human nature.
Michael Turley had lived much to himself on his ranch, but that was
because in his latter days he had developed a secret taste for spirituous
liquors which he had no wish to share with others.
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