ng black dress revealing every line of her lithe young figure,
like these magazine stories say, the starched white apron and the look
of sad dignity that had probably come of fresh drummers trying to teach
her how to take a joke, and the smooth brown hair--he'd probably got
wise to the other kind back in the social centres of Ohio--and all at
once he saw there was something about her. He couldn't tell what it was,
but he knew it was there. He heard one of the over-haired ones call her
Ellabelle, and he committed the name to memory.

"He also remembered the book she was reading. He come back with a copy
he'd bought at Spokane and kept it on his bureau. Not that he read it
much. It was harder to get into than 'Peck's Bad Boy,' which was his
favourite reading just then.

"Pretty soon another load of steers is ready--my sakes, what scrubby
runts we sent off the range in them days compared to now!--and Angus
pleads to go, so Lysander John makes a place for him and, coming back,
here's Ellabelle handing the hot things along same as ever, with
'Lucile' at hand for idle moments. This time Angus again made certain
there was something about her. He cross-examined her, I suppose, between
the last ham and eggs and the first hot cakes. Her folks was corn
farmers over in Iowa and she'd gone to high school and had meant to be a
teacher, but took this job because with her it was anything to get out
of Iowa, which she spoke of in a warm, harsh way.

"Angus nearly lost the train that time, making certain there was
something about her. He told her to be sure and stay there till he
showed up again. He told me about her when he got back. 'There's
something about her,' he says. 'I suspect it's her eyes, though it might
be something else.'

"Me? I suspected there was something about her, too; only I thought it
was just that North Platte breakfast and his appetite. No meal can ever
be like breakfast to them that's two-fisted, and Angus was. He'd think
there was something about any girl, I says to myself, seeing her through
the romantic golden haze of them North Platte breakfast victuals. Of
course I didn't suggest any such base notion to Angus, knowing how
little good it does to talk sense to a man when he thinks there's
something about a girl. He tried to read 'Lucile' again, but couldn't
seem to strike any funny parts.

"Next time he went to Omaha, a month later, he took his other suit and
his new boots. 'I shall fling caution to the wi