bleached the other; but the hair was
nice hair, with a glow of auburn in it, which contrasted not
uninterestingly with his black, straight brows. It was, however, the
brilliance of the brook-brown eyes which made Nick a handsome man, and not
merely a "good-looking fellow." It was because of his eyes that women
turned in the street for another glance when he went into Bakersfield or
Fresno; but Nick never knew that they turned. He liked pretty girls, and
enjoyed their society, but was too busy to seek it, and had had little of
it in his life. It did not occur to him that he had qualities to attract
women. Indeed, he wasted few thoughts upon himself as an individual; not
enough, perhaps; for he gave his whole attention to his work. Work was
what he liked best, even without the ultimate success it brought, but
lately he had begun to long for a change. He had a strong wish to go East,
and a reason for the wish.

Carmen held out both hands, and enjoyed seeing how white they looked in
Nick's sunburned, slightly freckled ones. He shook hers, frankly, warmly,
and apologized for his "rig," which was certainly far from conventional.
"I'm ashamed of myself for blowin' in on you this way," he said,
"especially as you're so mighty fine. I hope you'll excuse me, for you
know I pull out to-night, and Jim Beach is bringin' the buggy along here
for me, with my grip in it. If I'd piked back home afterward, my visit
with you'd have been a cut game."

"Ah, I'm glad you arranged not to go back," said Carmen. "I want you to
stay with me as long as you can. I like you in those clothes." She smiled
at him as if she would like him in anything; but Nick was thinking about
Jim Beach, wondering if the boy would have trouble with the flea-bitten
gray, which he himself had newly broken to harness.

"All the same," Carmen went on, "though I like them, you haven't got much
vanity if you mean to wear those things to travel East, and land in New
York."

"Why, what's the matter with 'em, Mrs. Gaylor?" Nick asked. He spoke
carelessly, in the matter of accent as well as of his feeling about the
clothes. He cut off his words in a slipshod way, as if he had never had
time to think much about the value or beauty of the English language.
Still, though his speech was not that of a cultivated man, it did not
grate on the ear. His voice was singularly pleasant, even sweet, with
something of boyish gaiety in it.

"The things are all right, Nick, and you're a