iding?"

"Yes; just a little canter."

"Alone?" Pell followed up.

"Yes; why?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing at all." There was a nasal tone in his voice
always--a twang that grated on sensitive ears. He turned on Gilbert. "How
about dinner?" he asked, almost as though the young fellow were a hotel
clerk.

"It isn't ready yet," Jones answered. He disliked the other's tone. After
all, he was a guest in his, Gilbert's, house. He hoped their wretched
business would soon be settled, and Pell return to New York. He had had his
fill of him.

Pell, seemingly oblivious of the bad impression he had made, started toward
the door. He had not put the bag down. "Well, call me when dinner _is_
ready, will you? I won't be far away."

"Where are you going?" Lucia ventured.

"Out," was Pell's curt reply; and he almost knocked Uncle Henry's chair
aside as he hurried into the yard.

There was an awkward silence at his departure. Everyone felt a little
ashamed for him; but Gilbert was determined that Lucia should not read his
thoughts. So he said, nonchalantly, "Well, Lucia, how did the pony
behave?" just as though Pell had never been in the room.

"Splendidly!" the young wife replied, glad that the atmosphere was cleared
once more. "Oh, Gil, it's wonderful here--nothing but sky and the golden
desert! What a miracle place!"

"You like it here?" Jones asked, knowing that she did. She had told him so
every hour of her visit.

Lucia gave him a rapt look. "Like it, Gil? Um! I love it!" She clasped her
hands to her breast; and Jones thought she had never looked lovelier, more
desirable. How pink her cheeks were! Yet underneath her beauty there was a
wistful sadness. Anyone could see that she was not happy.

"You really love it?" Uncle Henry asked, as though he could not believe he
had heard what she said.

Lucia had forgotten his presence for a moment. Now she turned to him and
smiled. "Of course. Don't you?"

"It makes me sick!" was the unexpected reply.

Lucia was horrified; and she looked from Smith to Gilbert in utter
confusion. "Why, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"Beautiful!" Uncle Henry went on, repeating the word in derision. "What's
beautiful about it? That's what I'd like to know."

"The desert," Lucia answered.

"A lot of gol darn sand!" the invalid whined.

"The sky, then!" Lucia affirmed.

But Uncle Henry merely repeated "The sky!" in whole-hearted disgust.

Lucia refused to be downed. "But think of the glor