ahead," she explained. "As many as you
can remember. Beryl told me all about how they do here; Beryl King is my
cousin, you know."

I didn't know, but I was content to take her word for it, and asked her
for that dance and got it, and she chattered on about everything under the
sun, and told all about how they happened to be in Montana, and how long
they were going to stay, and that Mr. Weaver had brought his auto, and
another fellow--I forget his name--had intended to bring his, but didn't,
and that they were going to tour through to Helena, on their way home, and
it would be such fun, and that if I didn't come over right away to call
upon her, she would never forgive me.

"There's a drawback," I told her. "I'm not on your cousin's visiting-list;
I've never even been introduced to her."

"That," said Miss Edith complacently, "is easily remedied. You know mama
well enough, I should think. Aunt Lodema--funny name, isn't it?--is
stopping here all summer, with Beryl. Beryl has the strangest tastes. She
_will_ spend every summer out here with her father, and if any of us poor
mortals want a glimpse of her between seasons, we must come where she is.
She's a dear, and you must know her, even if you do hold yourself
superior to us women. She's almost as much a crank on athletics as you
are; you ought to see her on the links, once! That's why I can't
understand her running away off here every summer. And, by the way, Ellie,
what are _you_ doing here--a stranger?"

"I'm earning my bread by the sweat of my brow," I told her plainly. "I'm a
cowboy--a would-be, I suppose I should say."

She looked up at me horrified. "Have you--lost--your millions?" she wanted
to know. Edith Loroman was always a straightforward questioner, at any
rate.

"The millions," I told her, laughing, "are all right, I believe. Dad has a
cattle-ranch in this part of the world, and he sent me out here to reform
me. He meant it as a punishment, but at present I'm getting rather the
best of the deal, I think."

"And where's Barney?" she asked. "One reason I came near not recognizing
you was because you hadn't your shadow along."

"Barney is luxuriating in idleness somewhere," I answered lightly. "One
couldn't expect _him_ to turn savage, just because I did. I can't imagine
Barney working for his daily bread."

"I can," retorted Miss Edith, "every bit as easily as I can imagine you!
And, if you'll pardon me, I don't believe a word of it, either."

On