e prairie was at its worst. The trails were simply
awful, with the last of the frost coming out of the ground and mother
earth a foot-deep sponge of engulfing stickiness. All the world seemed
turned to mud. I couldn't go along, of course, when Dinky-Dunk started
off in the Teetzels' borrowed spring "democrat" to meet his English
cousin at the Buckhorn station, with Whinstane Sandy and the wagon
trailing behind for the luggage.

We expected a lady in somewhat delicate health, so I sent along plenty
of rugs and a foot-warmer, and saw that the house was well heated, and
the west room bed turned down. Even a hot-water bottle stood ready and
waiting to be filled.

But Lady Alicia, when she arrived with Dinky-Dunk just before
nightfall, didn't impress me as very much of an invalid. She struck me
more as a very vital and audacious woman, neither young nor old, with
an odd quietness of manner to give a saber-edge to her audacity. I
could hear her laughing, musically and not unpleasantly, at the
mud-coated "democrat," which on its return looked a good deal like a
'dobe hut mounted on four chariot wheels. But _everything_, for that
matter, was covered with mud, horses and harness and robes and even
the blanket in which Lady Alicia had wrapped herself. She had done
this, I could see, to give decent protection to a Redfern coat of
plucked beaver with immense reveres, though there was mud enough on
her stout tan shoes, so unmistakably English in their common-sense
solidity, and some on her fur turban and even a splash or two on her
face. That face, by the way, has an apple-blossom skin of which I can
see she is justly proud. And she has tourmaline eyes, with reddish
hazel specks in an iris of opaque blue, and small white teeth and lips
with a telltale curve of wilfulness about them. She isn't exactly
girlish, but with all her worldly wisdom she has a touch of the
clinging-ivy type which must make her inordinately appealing to men.
Her voice is soft and full-voweled, with that habitual rising
inflection characteristic of the English, and that rather insolent
drawl which in her native land seems the final flower of unchallenged
privilege. Her hands are very white and fastidious looking, and most
carefully manicured. She is, in fact, wonderful in many ways, but I
haven't yet decided whether I'm going to like her or not. Her smile
strikes me as having more glitter than warmth, and although she is
neither tall nor full-bodied, she seem