I s'pose the young lady wouldn't like to call
me Jake?"
"I think not," said Ida, smiling.
"I ain't used to bein' called mister. The boys always called me
Jake."
"But I am not one of the boys, Mr. Bradley," said Miss Sinclair.
"Right you are, miss, and I reckon Richard Dewey would rather have
you as you are."
Ida laughed merrily. To her the miner was a new character, unlike
any she had ever met, and though rough and unconventional, she was
disposed to like him.
"Find him for me, and you can ask him the question if you like. Tell
him from me-but you must first know me by my real name."
Ben looked surprised. He had forgotten that Ida Sinclair was only
assumed to elude the vigilance of her guardian.
"My real name is Florence Douglas. I am of Scotch descent, as you
will judge. Can you remember the name?"
"I can, Cousin Ida-I mean Cousin Florence," said Ben.
"Then let Ida Sinclair be forgotten. Richard--Mr. Dewey-would not
know me by that name."
"I tell you, Ben, that gal's a trump!" said Jake Bradley
enthusiastically, when they were by themselves; "and so I'll tell
Dick Dewey when I see him."
"She's been a kind friend to me, Jake.
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