e came in the following night he broke
forth.

"See here, mister, I reckon you better get ready and pull out. I'm not
going to have you for a son-in-law, not this season. The man that
marries my Fan has got to have sabe enough to round up a flock of
goats--and wit enough to get up in the morning. So you better vamoose
to-morrow."

Lester received his sentence in silence. At the moment he was glad of
it. He turned on his heel and went to packing with more haste, with
greater skill, than he had ever displayed in any enterprise hitherto.
His hurry arose from a species of desperation. "If I can only get out of
the house!" was his inward cry.

"Why pack up?" he suddenly asked himself. "What do they matter--these
boots and shirts and books?" He caught a few pictures from the wall and
stuffed them into his pockets, and was about to plunge out into the dusk
when Fan entered the room and stood looking at him with ominous
intentness.

She was no longer the laughing, romping girl, but the woman with alert
eye and tightly closed lips. "What are you doing, Dell?"

"Your father has ordered me to leave the ranch," he answered, "and so
I'm going."

"No, you're not! I don't care what he has ordered! You're not
going"--she came up and put her arms about his neck--"not without me."
And, feeling her claim to pity, he took her in his arms and tenderly
pressed her cheek upon his bosom. Then she began to weep. "I can't live
without you, Dell," she moaned.

He drew her closer, a wave of tenderness rising in his heart. "I'll be
lonely without you, Fan--but your father is right. I am too poor--we
have no home--"

"What does that matter?" she asked. "I wouldn't marry you for any amount
of _money_! And I know you don't care for this old ranch! _I'll_ be glad
to get shut of it. I'll go with you, and we'll make a home somewhere
else." Then her mood changed. Her face and voice hardened. She pushed
herself away from him. "No, I won't! I'll stay here, and so shall you!
Dad can't boss me, and I won't let him run you out. Come and face him up
with me."

So, leading him, she returned to the kitchen, where Blondell, alone with
his wife, was eating supper, his elbows on the table, his hair unkempt,
his face glowering, a glooming contrast to his radiant and splendid
daughter, who faced him fearlessly. "Dad, what do you mean by talking
this way to George Adelbert? He's going to stay and I'm going to stay,
and you're going to be decent about it, f