ently and impartially against
his sides.

"Also the proudest moment." He looked at his bride, noting that she wore
a broach which might have belonged on a set of harness.

"Yip! Yip! Yee-ough!"

"I am deeply conscious of my own unworthiness and not insensible to the
fact that the gods have singled me out for special favor----"

Any reference to the gods was considered a mark of learning and
eloquence, so Symes's humble admission was loudly applauded.

"Love, the Wise Ones say, 'is blind.' If this is true it is my earnest
wish that I may remain so, for I desire to continue to regard my wife as
the most beautiful, attractive, charming of her sex." He bowed
elaborately toward the grotesque figure whose adoring eyes were fixed
upon his face.

The guests howled in ecstasy at this flight of sentiment and only Dr.
Harpe caught the sneering note beneath the commonplaces he uttered with
such convincing fervor.

"What a cad," she thought, yet she looked in something like admiration
at his towering figure. "If only he had brains in proportion to his body
he might accomplish great things here," she murmured. Shrugging her
shoulder, she added: "I envy him his chance."

It did not occur to any person present that this wedding was an
important, far-reaching event to any save the principals; but to Essie
Tisdale and to Dr. Harpe it was a turning point in their careers. It
meant waning triumphs to the merry little belle of Crowheart, while it
spread a fallow field before Dr. Harpe the planting of which in deeds of
good or evil was as surely in her hands as is the seed the farmer sows
for his ultimate harvest. Which it was to be, can be surmised from the
fact that already she was considering how soon, and in what way, she
might utilize her knowledge after Symes's return from his wedding
journey.

IV

"THE GROUND FLOOR"

While Andy P. Symes on his honeymoon was combining business with
pleasure in that vague region known as "Back East," and his bride was
learning not to fold the hotel napkin or call the waiter "sir," the
population of Crowheart was increasing so rapidly that the town had
growing pains. Where, last month, the cactus bloomed, tar-paper shacks
surrounded by chicken-wire, kid-proof fences was home the next to
families of tow-heads.

Crowheart, the citizens of the newly incorporated town told each other,
was booming _right_.

They came in prairie schooners, travel-stained and weary, their horses
thin