but bein' ignorant don't know how. A present fer a middle-aged
bridegroom? Well, now, if 'twas me, I'd make him a nice comfortable
bed-spread, with the best an' prettiest o' stitchin."

We both laughed. Uncle Jake under a gorgeous counterpane would make a
graven image smile. Gloriana laughed with us.

"It'd be most too dainty fer some," she said, with a surprising sense
of humour, "but I was thinkin' ye wanted a gift fer one o' yer high-
toned relations in the old country. No? Well, take yer time: a gift
ain't lightly chosen."

"I shall tackle Uncle Jake," said Ajax, as he rode over the ranch.
"Gloriana is too discreet, but she bought that bonnet for her own
wedding."

Uncle Jake, however, was cunning of fence.

"I don't feel lonesome," he declared. "Ye see I'm a cattle man, an' I
like the travelled trails. I ain't huntin' no quicksands. Many a
feller has mired down tryin' a new crossin'. No, sir, I calkilate ter
remain single."

"He's very foxy," commented Ajax, "but he means business. It really
bothers me that they won't confide in us."

The November rains were unusually heavy that year, and confined us to
the house. Gloriana had borrowed a sewing-machine from a neighbour,
and worked harder than ever, inflaming her eyes and our curiosity. We
speculated daily upon her past, present and future, having little else