d one great
fault of the head. She must always make a martyr of herself by bearing
the burdens of her world.

The Judge and Mrs. Tiffany sat now, in the early afternoon of a summer
Sunday, under the gigantic live-oak which shadowed their piazza. She
was crocheting a pink scarf, through which her tiny fingers flew like
shuttles; he was reading. Out beyond their hacienda, the American
"hands," fresh-shaved for Sunday, lolled on the ground over a lazy
game of cards. From the creek bottom further on, came a sound which,
in the distance, resembled the drumming of cicadas--a Chinese workman
was lulling his ease with a moon-fiddle. Near at hand stood the tea
things, all prepared before Molly, the maid, started for her Sunday
afternoon visit to the camp of the women cutters. Factory girls from
the city, these cutters, making a vacation of the summer work.

Mrs. Tiffany glanced up from her yarns at the leonine head of her
husband, bent above "The History of European Morals," opened her mouth
as though to speak; thought better of it, apparently. Twice she looked
up like this, her air showing that she was not quite confident of his
sympathy in that which she meant to bring forward.

"Edward!" she said at length, quite loud. He lowered the book and
removed his reading glasses, held them poised--a characteristic
gesture with him. He said no word; between them, a glance was enough.

"You remember the young man who went over with Eleanor to drive away
the Ruggles bull?"

Judge Tiffany gave assent by a slight inclination of his head.

"I went over to the camp of those University boys yesterday," she went
on, running loops with incredible speed, "and I don't quite like the
way they are living there. They associate too much with the
cutting-women. You know, Edward, that isn't good for boys of their
age--and they must be nice at bottom or they wouldn't be trying to
work their way through college--"

She stopped as though to note the effect. The ripple of a smile played
under Judge Tiffany's beard. She caught at her next words a little
nervously.

"You know we have a responsibility for the people about the place,
Edward--I couldn't bear to think we'd let any nice college boy
degenerate because we employed him--and it is so easy at their age."

"Which means," broke in the Judge, "that you have asked this Mr.
Chester up here to tea."

"If--if you wish it, Edward."

"I can't very well countermand your invitation and tell him by