e malodorous reputation of her mother to contend with, but
the memory of a traitorous sire to live down; and when Lee Virginia went
to her room to pack her bag, the wife turned to her husband and said:
"What are we to think of heredity when we see a thoroughly nice girl like
that rise out of the union of a desperado with a vixen?"

Redfield answered: "It is unaccountable. I knew her father well; he was a
reckless daredevil, with less real courage in him than there is in old
Lize; but I can't tell the girl that. She is sufficiently humiliated by
her mother; she takes comfort in the thought that her father at least was
brave and heroic."

"I don't believe in heredity as I did once," his wife resumed. "Aren't
scientific men rather divided about it?"

"Yes, there are those who deny that there is any inheritance of the
spirit, of character, insisting that the laws of transmission affect the
body only. Lee is certainly like her father in looks. He was a handsome
rascal."

"Ross is terribly smitten with her."

Redfield coughed, uneasily. "I hope not. Of course he admires her, as any
man must. She's physically attractive, very attractive, and, besides, Ross
is as susceptible as a cow-puncher. He was deeply impressed the first time
he saw her, I could see that."

"I didn't like his going out on the veranda with her last night,"
continued Mrs. Redfield, "and when they came in her eyes and color
indicated that he'd been saying something exciting to her. Hugh, Ross
Cavanagh must not get involved with that girl. It's your duty as his
superior to warn him."

"He's fully grown, my dear, and a bit dictatorial on his own part. I'm a
trifle timid about cutting in on his private affairs."

"Then I'll do it. Marriage with a girl like that is out of the question.
Think what his sisters would say."

Redfield smiled a bit satirically. "To the outsider a forest ranger at
$900 a year and find himself and horses is not what you may call a
brilliant catch."

"Oh, well, the outsider is no judge. Ross Cavanagh is a gentleman, and,
besides, he's sure to be promoted. I acknowledge the girl's charms, and I
don't understand it. When I think of her objectively as Lize Wetherford's
girl I wonder at her being in my house. When I see her I want her to stay
with me; I want to hug her."

"Perhaps we've been unjust to Lize all along," suggested Redfield. "She
has remained faithful to Ed Wetherford's memory all these years--that is
conceded. Does