rt of female
Robinson Crusoe cast away on the desert island of the Sage Brush country
in Kansas. Let me be your Man Friday. I'd like to be your Saturday and
Sunday and Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday. York Macpherson would come
lopin' in to claim Thursday, I reckon."

The sincerity of the fat little man offset the pompous ridiculousness of
his speech.

"If I seem cuttin' into the Macpherson melon-patch it's because I got on
to some of Stellar Bahrr's gossip that set me thinkin'. She's up to
turnin' Miss Laury against you because of York's admiring you so much."

Jerry grasped the situation now. The hotel-keeper was not only wishing
to befriend and shield her--he thought he was in love with her. And he
thought that York Macpherson was also in love. Was he? The girl's mind
worked rapidly. Little as she cared for the opinion of New-Edenites,
outside of these three good friends, she realized that these same
New-Edenites were interested in her and dared to discuss her affairs;
and that if she stayed here, as she meant to do, she must meet them and
be, in a way, of them. How much of this newly discovered admiration
which her companion evidently felt, and which he felt sure York
Macpherson possessed, might be really the outgrowth of pity for her in
the new position in which she found herself? And there was Laura.
Stellar Bahrr had hinted about her being neglected by her brother for
other women. Whatever might be the real motive, Jerry and love had
parted company on the day that Eugene Wellington's letter had come
telling of his renunciation of his art for an easy clerkship. But Laura
didn't know that, and she might have heard the town-meddler--Oh, bother
Stellar and all her works! Jerry Swaim would have none of them. And
Laura was such a sweet, companionable, refined friend. This thing must
be overcome in some way.

"Tell me, Mr. Ponk, why do the New Eden people listen to a sharp-tongued
trouble-maker, since they know her power?" Jerry asked, after a pause.

"Why? 'Cause they enjoy it when 'tain't about them--all of us do that,
bein' human. Are you right sure you wouldn't believe her yourself, much
as you despised any story of hers you'd be forced to listen to? Well as
I know her, I have to keep pinchin' my right arm to see if it's got
nerve enough to strike back if I'm hit, you might say."

On Jerry's cheeks the bloom deepened. She had let a word of Mrs. Bahrr's
set her to wondering about both her host and hostess.