schoolmate of her mother. I shall stop with them--I have heard so much
about the Western hospitality--and shall get into touch with my
cowboys from the vantage point of proximity. Did you say you know
them?"

"I work for them," Andy told her truthfully in his deep amazement, and
immediately repented and wished that he had not been so virtuous. With
Andy, to wish was to do--given the opportunity.

"Then I can go with you out to their farm--ranchero! How nice! And on
the way you can tell me all about yourself and your life and
hopes--because I do want to get in touch with you all, you know--and
I'll tell you all my plans for you; I have some _beau_tiful plans! And
we'll be very good friends by the time we reach our destination, I'm
sure. I want you to feel from the start that I am a true friend, and
that I have your welfare very much at heart. Without the confidence of
my cowboys, I can do nothing. Are there any more at home like you?"

Andy looked at her suspiciously, but it was so evident she never meant
to quote comic opera, that he merely wondered anew. He struggled
feebly against temptation, and fell from grace quite willingly. It
isn't polite to "throw a load" at a lady, but then Andy felt that
neither was it polite for a lady to come out with the avowed intention
of improving him and his fellows; it looked to him like butting in
where she was not wanted, or needed.

"Yes, ma'am, there's quite a bunch, and they're pretty bad. I don't
believe you can do much for 'em." He spoke regretfully.

"Do they--_drink_?" she asked, leaning forward and speaking in the