her
and higher, and the higher she jumped the lighter she became, until
finally she weighed no more than a thistledown, and the effort of
leaping became a pure joy and an exhilaration. Having attained this
perfect state of buoyancy, she would set out upon wonderful journeys,
springing lightly as far as it pleased her to spring, soaring
gracefully over obstacles, and deriving a delirious pleasure from the
sensation. One cannot appreciate the enjoyment to be had from this
method of locomotion without trying it.

And always when Ma came back to earth and opened her eyes there were
the great smiling mountains, the clear, clean waters foaming over the
rocks, and underfoot was the cool, green grass, not that hot, hard
'dobe clay she had always known. Trees, too! Beautiful whispering
trees, with smooth leaves instead of burrs and spines and stickers. Nor
was there the faintest choking smell of dust; no sand blowing up her
nose and smarting her eyes.

Ma Briskow had never dreamed that the world was so clean. She blessed
God for making oil to lie in the rocks of the earth, and she prayed
that none of "them hotel people" would discover her retreat.

But, of course, somebody did discover it. Mr. Delamater, the dancing
instructor, for one, stumbled upon it while Ma Briskow was in the midst
of one of her imaginary games, and he reported his discovery to the day
clerk.

"What ails that old dame, anyhow?" he inquired, after recounting Ma's
peculiar behavior.

"Not a thing in the world except money," the clerk declared.

Doubtfully Mr. Delamater shook his handsome auburn head. "People with
good sense don't act like that. She was doing an Isadora Duncan when I
saw her. Dancing--if you care to call it that! Anyhow, her hair was
hanging, she was flapping her arms and jiggling up and down." Delamater
laughed at the memory. "There's a big, awkward bird--sort of a crane or
buzzard of some kind--that dances. I never saw one, but she reminded me
of it. And she _sang_! Gee! it was fierce!"

"Did she see you?"

"Scarcely. I don't mind being alone with Allie"--Delamater's teeth
shone in a smile, then, seeing his reflection in a convenient mirror,
he studied it with complacent favor. He tried the smile again, and,
getting it to his better satisfaction, concluded--"don't mind it a bit,
but a bosky dell with a mad woman is my idea of no place to be."

"Allie?" The clerk lifted his brows. "So--'_Allie_'! Has it gone as far
as that, Del?"