contract that I should
become the patriarch of these venerable relics. But I'll warn them to
conceal themselves as much as possible. I fully expect to leave the
reservation for good just one hour after the lady arrives."

"That's your affair, of course. As she's motoring, we can't just time
her arrival, but when I get a wire that she's on the way I'll telephone
you. And, of course, after she gets here I'll come at once to pay my
respects."

"You can't come too soon!" I answered spitefully.

CHAPTER II

THE AMAZING WIDOW

As soon as Torrence left I returned to the garage, feeling that with
Mrs. Bashford on American soil my use of the residence even as a
loafing-place was unbecoming. Mrs. Bashford was not only in America, but
with a motor at her command she might reach Barton at any hour. And the
vigorous, dominating woman who had captured my uncle Bash, buried him in
a far country, and then effected a hop, skip, and jump from Bangkok to
Seattle, was likely to be a prodigal spender of gasoline. Her propensity
for travelling encouraged the hope that she would quickly weary of
Barton and pine for lands where the elephant and jinrickisha flourish.

I had brought with me the manuscript of Searles's play, and I fell upon
it irritably and began reading the first act. The dialogue moved
briskly, and I read on as though enfolded in the air of a crisp spring
morning. It was Searles's whimsical stroke, only with a better vehicle
than he had ever before found for it. My grouch over the upsetting of my
plans yielded under the spell of his humor.

"Lady Larkspur" was the name assumed by the daughter of a recluse
naturalist in the valley of Virginia. She had known no life but that of
the open country, where she ran wild all summer, aiding her father in
collecting plants and butterflies. At twenty she had never seen a city,
and her social contacts had been limited to the country folk, who viewed
her with commiseration as the prisoner of her misanthrope father, who in
the fifteen years of his exile had maintained a hostile attitude toward
his neighbors. He had, however, educated the girl in such manner that
only the cheer and joy of life were known to her. Hating mankind, he had
encouraged her in nature-worship. She knew no literature except the
classics; all history, even the history of the storied valley in which
she lived, was a sealed book to her.

The girl's curiosity is roused by the sudden appearance of strangers