went back and gave the social evening of their life to them
four boys that had stayed. She said she couldn't thank them enough for
coming this evening--which is probably the only time she had told the
truth in thirty-six hours--and they all made merry. Roth Hyde sang
'Sally in Our Alley' so good on the high notes that the Duttons was all
out in the hall listening; and Riley Hardin singing 'Down, Diver, Down,
'Neath the Deep Blue Waves!' and Mac Gordon singing his everlasting
German songs in their native language, and Charlie Dickman singing a new
sentimental one called 'Ain't There at Least One Gentleman Here?' about
a fair young lady dancer being insulted in a gilded cafe in some large
city; and one and all voted it was a jolly evening and said how about
coming back to-morrow night, but Hetty said no, it was her one evening
for study and she couldn't be bothered with them, which was a plain,
downright so-and-so and well she knew it, because that girl's study was
over for good and all.

"Well, why string it out? I've give you the facts. And my lands! Will
you look at that clock now? Here's the morning gone and this room still
looking like the inside of a sheep-herder's wagon! Oh, yes, and when
Hetty was up here this time that she wouldn't wear my riding pants
down, she says. 'Not only that, but I'm scrupulously careful in all
ways. Why, I never even allow dear Burchell to observe me in one of
those lace boudoir caps that so many women cover up their hair with when
it's their best feature but they won't take time to do it.'

"Now was that spoken like a wise woman or like the two-horned Galumpsis
Caladensis of East India, whose habits are little known to man? My Lord!
Won't I ever learn to stop? Where did I put that dusting cloth?"

VI

COUSIN EGBERT INTERVENES

"It takes all kinds of foreigners to make a world," said Ma
Pettengill--irrelevantly I thought, because the remark seemed to be
inspired merely by the announcement of Sandy Sawtelle that the mule
Jerry's hip had been laid open by a kick from the mule Alice, and that
the bearer of the news had found fourteen stitches needed to mend the
rent.

Sandy brought his news to the owner of the Arrowhead as she relaxed in
my company on the west veranda of the ranch house and scented the golden
dusk with burning tobacco of an inferior but popular brand. I listened
but idly to the minute details of the catastrophe, discovering more
entertainment in the solemn w