"We don't have any lady cowpunchers out here," interposed Andy mildly.

The strange lady had merely gone astray a bit, being accustomed to
addressing Mothers' Meetings and the like. She recovered herself
easily. "Nobler men, the bulwarks of our nation." She stopped and eyed
Andy archly. Andy, having observed that her neck was scrawny, with
certain cords down the sides that moved unpleasantly when she talked,
tried not to look.

"I wonder if you can guess what brings me out here, away from home and
friends! Can you guess?"

Andy thought of several things, but he could not feel that it would be
polite to mention them. Agent for complexion stuff, for instance, and
next to that, wanting a husband. He shook his head again and looked at
his potato.

"You _can't guess_?" The tone was the one commonly employed for the
encouragement, and consequent demoralization of, a primary class. Andy
realized that he was being talked down to, and his combativeness
awoke. "Well, away back in my home town, a woman's club has been
thinking of all you lonely fellows, and have felt their hearts swell
with a desire to help you--so far from home and mother's influence,
with only the coarse pleasures of the West, and amid all the
temptations that lie in wait--" She caught herself back from
speech-making--"and they have sent _me_--away out here--to be your
_friend_; to help you to help yourselves become better, truer men
and--" She did not say women, though, poor soul, she came near it.
"So, I am going to be your friend. I want to get in touch with you