ver my own confession. Before we
were called to supper every one in the house, including the Mexicans
about headquarters, knew that Cotton and I were soon to be married. And
all during the evening the same subject was revived at every lull in
the conversation, though Deweese kept constantly intruding the corral
building and making inquiries after the hunt. "What difference does it
make if we hunted or not?" replied Uncle Lance to his foreman with some
little feeling. "Suppose we did only hunt every third or fourth day?
Those Wilson folks have a way of entertaining friends which makes riding
after hounds seem commonplace. Why, the girls had Glenn and Aaron on the
go until old man Nate and myself could hardly get them out on a hunt at
all. And when they did, provided the girls were along, they managed to
get separated, and along about dusk they'd come slouching in by pairs,
looking as innocent as turtle-doves. Not that those Wilson girls can't
ride, for I never saw a better horsewoman than Susie--the one who took
such a shine to Scales."

I noticed Miss Jean cast a reproving glance at her brother on his
connecting the name of Susie Wilson with that of his vagabond employee.
The mistress was a puritan in morals. That Scales fell far below her
ideal there was no doubt, and the brother knew too well not to differ
with her on this subject. When all the boys had retired except Cotton
and me, the brother and sister became frank with each other.

"Well, now, you must not blame me if Miss Susie was attentive to Aaron,"
said the old matchmaker, in conciliation, pacing the room. "He was
from Las Palomas and their guest, and I see no harm in the girls being
courteous and polite. Susie was just as nice as pie to me, and I hope
you don't think I don't entertain the highest regard for Nate Wilson's
family. Suppose one of the girls did smile a little too much on Aaron,
was that my fault? Now, mind you, I never said a word one way or the
other, but I'll bet every cow on Las Palomas that Aaron Scales, vagabond
that he is, can get Susie Wilson for the asking. I know your standard
of morals, but you must make allowance for others who look upon things
differently from you and me. You remember Katharine Vedder who married
Carey Troup at the close of the war. There's a similar case for you.
Katharine married Troup just because he was so wicked, at least that was
the reason she gave, and she and you were old run-togethers. And you
remember too