in front of Bill. The less that man knew about Drovers’ situation the better he liked it.
Joe came back with Beth’s glass of punch, then, sensing he was the odd man out, moved off to have a smoke with a group of young men clustered around the front door of the hall.
‘Aahh, there’s Ben Quinton. I want to have a word with him about installing a petrol pump outside his store,’ Bill declared. ‘With so many automobiles on the road nowadays it would be a forward-thinking business move to supply drivers with petrol directly into the vehicle’s tank, instead of making them siphon it from barrels of fuel, as one does at the livery stable.’
‘That’s a good idea, Daddy,’ Beth said. She smiled with satisfaction when he left her alone with Randall.
‘You and Danny must come over to Ingleside for dinner. Soon,’ she suggested. ‘Mother has just engaged a new cook and she’s very good.’ Her expression was sympathetic as she murmured, ‘It must be hard for you at Drovers, not having a woman around to cook and clean house.’
‘We manage,’ Randall replied, uncomfortably aware that his tone was defensive.
Beth’s features suddenly lit up. ‘I’ve an idea. Come over next Saturday. Mother’s organising a dinner party for Daddy’s fiftieth birthday. Presents are not expected, of course.’ She smiled up at him. ‘What can one get for a person who has everything?’
Aware that he was being pressured, Randall couldn’t come up with an excuse not to attend, and besides, Beth was just being neighbourly. ‘Danny and I would love to come.’
As the band began to play again, the strains of a waltz filled the hall. Beth watched many couples take to the floor. ‘Oh, I do love a good waltz.’
Her tone was so wistful that Randall knew he had little choice but to ask her to dance it with him. ‘Care to dance, Beth?’ He couldn’t help adding, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ‘If your toes have sufficiently recovered.’
‘They have,’ she admitted with a smile. ‘Let’s dance.’
One of the things Randall liked about dancing was that one didn’t have to converse with one’s partner while dancing, if one chose not to. With an eloquence that made them stand out, Randall twirled and whirled and dipped Beth around the floor, and from the rapt expression on her face, anyone watching could see she was enjoying the dance and the company.
One such person, Amy Carmichael, who was dancing with Frank Smith, glanced in their direction. Several months had passed sinceshe’d seen or spoken to Randall, and her eyes widened in surprise at seeing Danny’s good-looking brother enjoying himself. With his height, darkness and straight build, Randall stood out on the dance floor. That he was the most graceful male dancer in the hall increased her level of surprise and she felt a grudging interest. She tried to ignore the sudden skip of her heart, the sharp intake of breath, because for several moments she couldn’t move her gaze from him and Beth Walpole. She watched them till they danced out of her field of vision.
Guilt made her smile at her partner. She thought of him as Earnest Frank. He was a pleasant young man who was trying hard, too hard, to impress her, though in all truth over several months she had come to feel more at ease with Danny. He made her laugh and was relaxed in her company, whereas Frank was often too tongue-tied to say anything sensible. As the dance ended she and Frank happened to stop beside Randall and Beth. The dancers waited until the band leader announced the next dance, the Colonial Quadrille.
‘Shall we change partners, Frank?’ Randall found himself suggesting. He’d become concerned about the way Frank was pushing Amy around, with as much finesse as he would a bag of coal at his father’s forge.
‘I-if it s-suits the l-ladies,’ Frank stammered.
Both women understood without a word transpiring between them—it would be considered churlish to refuse—and
Joe came back with Beth’s glass of punch, then, sensing he was the odd man out, moved off to have a smoke with a group of young men clustered around the front door of the hall.
‘Aahh, there’s Ben Quinton. I want to have a word with him about installing a petrol pump outside his store,’ Bill declared. ‘With so many automobiles on the road nowadays it would be a forward-thinking business move to supply drivers with petrol directly into the vehicle’s tank, instead of making them siphon it from barrels of fuel, as one does at the livery stable.’
‘That’s a good idea, Daddy,’ Beth said. She smiled with satisfaction when he left her alone with Randall.
‘You and Danny must come over to Ingleside for dinner. Soon,’ she suggested. ‘Mother has just engaged a new cook and she’s very good.’ Her expression was sympathetic as she murmured, ‘It must be hard for you at Drovers, not having a woman around to cook and clean house.’
‘We manage,’ Randall replied, uncomfortably aware that his tone was defensive.
Beth’s features suddenly lit up. ‘I’ve an idea. Come over next Saturday. Mother’s organising a dinner party for Daddy’s fiftieth birthday. Presents are not expected, of course.’ She smiled up at him. ‘What can one get for a person who has everything?’
Aware that he was being pressured, Randall couldn’t come up with an excuse not to attend, and besides, Beth was just being neighbourly. ‘Danny and I would love to come.’
As the band began to play again, the strains of a waltz filled the hall. Beth watched many couples take to the floor. ‘Oh, I do love a good waltz.’
Her tone was so wistful that Randall knew he had little choice but to ask her to dance it with him. ‘Care to dance, Beth?’ He couldn’t help adding, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ‘If your toes have sufficiently recovered.’
‘They have,’ she admitted with a smile. ‘Let’s dance.’
One of the things Randall liked about dancing was that one didn’t have to converse with one’s partner while dancing, if one chose not to. With an eloquence that made them stand out, Randall twirled and whirled and dipped Beth around the floor, and from the rapt expression on her face, anyone watching could see she was enjoying the dance and the company.
One such person, Amy Carmichael, who was dancing with Frank Smith, glanced in their direction. Several months had passed sinceshe’d seen or spoken to Randall, and her eyes widened in surprise at seeing Danny’s good-looking brother enjoying himself. With his height, darkness and straight build, Randall stood out on the dance floor. That he was the most graceful male dancer in the hall increased her level of surprise and she felt a grudging interest. She tried to ignore the sudden skip of her heart, the sharp intake of breath, because for several moments she couldn’t move her gaze from him and Beth Walpole. She watched them till they danced out of her field of vision.
Guilt made her smile at her partner. She thought of him as Earnest Frank. He was a pleasant young man who was trying hard, too hard, to impress her, though in all truth over several months she had come to feel more at ease with Danny. He made her laugh and was relaxed in her company, whereas Frank was often too tongue-tied to say anything sensible. As the dance ended she and Frank happened to stop beside Randall and Beth. The dancers waited until the band leader announced the next dance, the Colonial Quadrille.
‘Shall we change partners, Frank?’ Randall found himself suggesting. He’d become concerned about the way Frank was pushing Amy around, with as much finesse as he would a bag of coal at his father’s forge.
‘I-if it s-suits the l-ladies,’ Frank stammered.
Both women understood without a word transpiring between them—it would be considered churlish to refuse—and