lf to that new jelly, Mary V. The old has got to be used up first.
And you wipe off the sink when you're through messing around. Bedelia's
hinting that she's going to quit when her month is up. It don't help me a
mite to keep her calmed down when you leave a mess for her every time you
go near the kitchen. She says she's sick and tired of cleaning up after
you. You know what'll happen if she does quit, Mary V. You'll be getting
your 'Desert Glimpses' out the kitchen window for a month or so, washing
dishes while we scurrup around after another cook. Bedelia--"

"Oh, plague _take_ Bedelia!" snapped Mary V. But she nevertheless spent
precious minutes wiping the butcher knife on Bedelia's clean dish towel,
and putting away the butter and the bread, and mopping up the splatters
of loganberry jam. Getting her "Desert Glimpses" through the kitchen
window formed no part of Mary V's plans or desires.

They seemed to Mary V to be precious minutes, although they would
otherwise have been spent in the wearisome task of waiting until the
ranch was asleep. She took her jam sandwiches and pickles and cake to her
room, chirping a blithe good-night to her unsuspecting parents. Then,
instead of going to bed as she very plainly indicated to those guileless
parents that she meant to do, she clothed herself in her riding breeches,
shirt, and coat, and was getting her riding shoes and puttees out of the
closet when she heard her mother coming.

A girl can do a good deal in a minute, if she really bestirs herself.
Her mother found Mary V sitting before her dressing table with her hair
hanging down her back. She was enfolded in a very pretty pink silk
kimono, and she was leisurely dabbing cold cream on her chin and cheeks
with her finger tips.

"Be sure you take your goggles with you, Mary V. I notice your eyelids
are all red and inflamed lately when you come in from your rides. And do
put them on and wear them if the wind comes up. It's easier to take a
little trouble preventing sore eyes and sunburn than it is to cure them.
And don't stay out late in the heat."

"All right, mommie." Drawing her kimono closer about her, Mary V put her
face up to be kissed. Her mother hesitated, looking dubiously at the
cream dabs, compromised with a peck on Mary V's forehead, and went away.
Mary V braided her hair, put on a pair of beaded moccasins, buckled on
her six-shooter and gathered together her other paraphernalia. She waited
an hour by her wrist