enough for her."

"Oh, he's good enough. That isn't quite the point, is it? Moya wants to
be stormed, to be swept from her feet into the arms of the man she is
ready to love. A sort of a Lochinvar business--full of thrills and great
moments. Ned can't give her those."

"No, I suppose not. Pity she can't be sensible."

"There are enough of us sensible, Di. We can spare her a few years yet
for romance. When she grows sensible she'll have to give up something
she can't afford to lose."

His wife looked at him and smiled fondly. "You haven't quite lost it
yourself, Jim."

It was true enough that Lord Farquhar retained an interest in life that
was refreshing. This evening his eyes gleamed while the Westerner told
of the frontier day program to be held at the little town of Gunnison
next day.

"You and your friends are miners, I understand. You'll not take part,
then?" he asked.

"I used to punch cows. My name is entered for the riding. The boys want
me to take a turn."

India Kilmeny sat up straight. "Let's go. We can ride up in the morning.
It will be jolly. All in favor of going eat another sandwich."

"It will be pretty woolly--quite different from anything you have seen,"
the miner suggested.

"Thought we came here to fish," Verinder interposed. "Great bore looking
at amateur shows--and it's a long ride."

"Move we go. What say, Lady Farquhar?" put in Captain Kilmeny.

"Do let's go," Moya begged.

"I don't see why we shouldn't," Lady Farquhar smiled. "But I'm like Mr.
Verinder about riding. If he'll drive me up the rest of you can go on
horseback."

"Delighted, 'm sure."

Verinder came to time outwardly civil but inwardly fuming. What the
deuce did Lady Farquhar mean? Captain Kilmeny would have five hours
clear with Miss Dwight and Miss Seldon during the ride back and forth.
Ever since the soldier had joined the party things had been going badly.

"If we're going it's time you girls were in bed. You've had a hard day
and to-morrow will be another," Lady Jim pronounced.

The Westerner rose to go.

"Night's young yet. Stop and sit in with us to a game of poker. What!"
Farquhar invited.

"My pocketbook is at the camp," the American demurred.

"I'll be your banker," his host volunteered.

The ladies said good-night and departed. Chairs were drawn to the card
table, chips sold, and hands dealt. The light of morning was breaking
before Kilmeny made his way back to camp. He had in his pockets one
hu