ght to do manual labor, to provide a
living for the family, to fight, and to perform all the other unpleasant
functions of living as he has. If there are not enough to go around, he
generously allows her to do his share."

"It's great to be a wife in Mexico," observed Scott, drily. "Think of
that, Miss Polly, next time you meet a fascinating Spaniard."

"Don't be disagreeable," said Mrs. Conrad, "and don't tell fibs. It's the
women of the lower classes who have the hard time down here just as they
do in every country."

"Except the U. S. A.," replied Scott, stoutly. "A woman may have hard luck
in our country because she's sick or poor or married to a no-account; but
not because the general opinion of the female sex is so darned low that
any loafer who comes along feels that he's got a right to treat her as he
pleases."

"How you like to argue every point, don't you?" observed Polly. "Were you
born like that or did it grow on you? Oh!"

The "oh" was literally jolted out of her. Turning rather a sudden curve at
a pretty good clip, the wagon slipped over the edge of a chuck-hole a
little deeper than the ordinary. Happening as it did in just the right
place, it caught the weakened wheel and wrenched it off as neatly and as
suddenly as a dentist wrenches a tooth out of the jaw of an unwilling
patient.

There was a crash and a jar as the wagon sank on its side, and the
frightened horses struggling to pull the dragging load, snapped the
harness where Scott had patched it. The occupants were jumbled into the
bottom of the wagon, except Hard, who was pitched out into the road. Scott
was out in a minute and at the horses' heads; the women righted themselves
just in time to see Hard pull himself to his feet, staggering as he did
so.

"Hurt, Henry?" asked Scott, who was trying to calm the horses.

"No, just bent my knee under me."

"Here, hold these critturs while I pull the ladies out!"

"We're all right--that is, I'm all right. Look after Mrs. Conrad," said
Polly, as Scott lifted her from the debris. "What was it? The wheel?"

Mrs. Conrad gladly availed herself of Scott's ready arm. "What did Henry
do?" she said. By this time, Scott was loosing the horses from the harness
and Hard had hobbled over to the edge of the road, where he sat down.

"It's my bad knee," he explained. "I did this once, only much worse,
playing football in college. Fell, you know, with it doubled under me. I
was laid up for six months."

"Oh