at got in on the ground floor. He owns the heart of
Hesperides Vale. That was his apple orchard we passed, you remember, a few
minutes ago. But the man who is backing him on that brick block is Lucky
Banks of Alaska. They are pulling together, nip and tuck, for Weatherbee."

"Nip--and Tuck," repeated Morganstein thoughtfully. "That reminds me of a
young team of bays I considered buying last fall, over at North Yakima.
Rather well named, if you knew 'em. But they were a little too gay for
Seattle hills and the lady I expected would drive 'em. George, though,
they made a handsome showing. A dealer named Lighter owned 'em, and they
won the blue ribbon for three-year-olds at Yakima and Spokane."

"I know them," replied the chauffeur. "They are owned here in the valley
now; and Lucky Banks' wife is driving them. You can meet her most any day
speeling down to the Columbia to see her goats."

"Goats?" queried Frederic.

"Yes, sir. Didn't you know she used to keep a flock of Angoras up here? It
was her land before she was married. But when Banks turned up with his
pile and started the orchards, the goats had to go. It wouldn't have taken
them a week to chew up every stick he planted. So she hired a man to
winter them down on the Columbia, where she could keep an eye on them.
Strange," the chauffeur went on musingly, "what a difference clothes make
in a woman. Nobody noticed her much, only we thought she was kind of
touched, when she was herding those billies by herself up that pocket, but
the minute Banks came, she blossomed out; made us all sit up and take
notice. Yes, sir, she's sure some style. To see her in her up-to-date
motoring-coat, veil to match, cape gloves, and up behind that team, you'd
think the Empress of India had the road."

"Just what I said first time I saw her," Morganstein chuckled thickly. "Or
I guess it was the Queen of Sheba I called her. Happened to be grand-opera
night, and she wore a necklace made of some of Banks' nuggets. George, she
could carry 'em; had the throat and shoulders. It isn't the clothes that
make the difference, my boy; it's the trick of wearing 'em. I know a slim
little thoroughbred, who puts on a plain gray silk like it was cloth of
gold. You'd think she was walking tiptoe to keep it off this darned old
earth. Lord, I'd like to see her in the real stuff. George, I'll do it,
soon's we're married," and he laughed deeply at the notion. "I'll order a
cloth of gold gown direct from Pari