sweetness and beauty
and wholesomeness and strength of life in the Southwest.

"Wal, as Nels says, I wouldn't be in that there ottomobile right now for
a million pesos," remarked Stillwell.

"Why? Is Stevens driving fast?"

"Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty, there hain't ever been anythin' except a
streak of lightnin' run so fast in this country. I'll bet Link for once
is in heaven. I can jest see him now, the grim, crooked-legged little
devil, hunchin' down over that wheel as if it was a hoss's neck."

"I told him not to let the ride be hot or dusty," remarked Madeline.

"Haw, haw!" roared Stillwell. "Wal, I'll be goin'. I reckon I'd like to
be hyar when Link drives up, but I want to be with the boys down by the
bunks. It'll be some fun to see Nels an' Monty when Link comes flyin'
along."

"I wish Al had stayed to meet them," said Madeline.

Her brother had rather hurried a shipment of cattle to California: and
it was Madeline's supposition that he had welcomed the opportunity to
absent himself from the ranch.

"I am sorry he wouldn't stay," replied Florence. "But Al's all business
now. And he's doing finely. It's just as well, perhaps."

"Surely. That was my pride speaking. I would like to have all my family
and all my old friends see what a man Al has become. Well, Link Stevens
is running like the wind. The car will be here before we know it.
Florence, we've only a few moments to dress. But first I want to order
many and various and exceedingly cold refreshments for that approaching
party."

Less than a half-hour later Madeline went again to the porch and found
Florence there.

"Oh, you look just lovely!" exclaimed Florence, impulsively, as she
gazed wide-eyed up at Madeline. "And somehow so different!"

Madeline smiled a little sadly. Perhaps when she had put on that
exquisite white gown something had come to her of the manner which
befitted the wearing of it. She could not resist the desire to look fair
once more in the eyes of these hypercritical friends. The sad smile had
been for the days that were gone. For she knew that what society had
once been pleased to call her beauty had trebled since it had last been
seen in a drawing-room. Madeline wore no jewels, but at her waist she
had pinned two great crimson roses. Against the dead white they had the
life and fire and redness of the desert.

"Link's hit the old round-up trail," said Florence, "and oh, isn't he
riding that car!"

With Florence, as w