d. Nor without more than a little to be said on his
side of the question. The woman was young, petite, dark and unusually
pretty. Her teeth flashed in engaging smiles, her eyes were large and
quick and bright; she was all vivacity; her glance could be at one
moment limpid, humid, haunting, and at the moment hold a gleam and
sparkle of mirth. Even Helen could find no fault with her little
travelling suit.

Plain to be read by anyone with a claim to eyesight was Yellow Barbee's
devotion; equally plainly decipherable, thought Helen, was the fact of
Mrs. Murray's amusement at Barbee's infatuation. It meant nothing to
her; she was playing with him as, no doubt, she had played with many
another susceptible youngster. Helen was sure she read that in the
eyes which the young woman turned now and then upon the languishing
young cowboy.

Presently Alan Howard put in his appearance, freshly shaven and shorn,
and they all went in together to supper. Helen was unaffectedly glad
to see him; she had seen all that she cared to see of Mrs. Murray and
something more than that of Barbee. Howard greeted Mrs. Murray
casually; she cried a friendly, 'Oh, hello, Al!' and he stepped to
Helen's side. Barbee hastened to place his big palm under Mrs.
Murray's elbow and steered her, after the approved fashion of the
community, in to the table. She allowed him the liberty; but while
Barbee's eyes devoured her face, Helen managed to mark that the 'widow'
was studying Alan Howard.

At table Alan and Helen found a variety of subjects to interest them;
Mrs. Murray stared at them a moment, then shrugged her plump shoulders
and made Barbee transcendently happy and miserable by turns; Longstreet
ate his dried beef stew abstractedly. Barbee and Mrs. Murray, who
finished first, excused themselves and went back to the gathering dusk
of the porch, whence her light laughter came now and then trilling back
into the dining-room.

'Who is she?' asked Helen, her eyes full upon Howard's.

'Mrs. Murray?' He shrugged. 'That is all I know of her; or that anyone
I know knows of her. I don't fancy,' he added coolly, 'that you will
like her.'

'I don't,' the girl announced briefly.

'Mind you,' he hurried to continue, 'I don't know a blessed thing
against her. I just meant that I didn't think her your kind.'

'Thank you,' Helen replied, accepting the statement as a satisfactory
compliment. He laughed. Then he looked toward the professor, whose
t