never even heard her name before to-day, but he hated her, wherever she
might be!

"There is a legend they tell out there that is very pretty and
appropriate," went on Verdayne, dreamily. "They say that when the
Creator made the world, He had indiscriminately strewn continents and
valleys, mountains and seas, islands and lakes, until He came to the
western part of America, and despite His omnipotence, was puzzled to
know what new glories He could possibly contrive for this corner of the
earth. Something majestic and mighty it must be, He thought, and yet of
an altogether different beauty from that in the rest of the
universe--something individual, distinctive. The seas still overflowed
the land, as they had through past eternities, awaiting His touch to
call into form and being the elements still sleeping beneath the
water--the living representation of His thought. Suddenly stretching out
His rod, He bade the waters recede--and they did so, leaving a vast
extent of grassy land where the majestic waves had so lately rolled and
tossed. And it is said that the land retains to this day the memory of
the sea it then was, while the grasses wave with a subtle suggestion of
the ocean's ebb and flow beneath the influence of a wind that is like no
other wind in the world so much as an ocean breeze; while the gulls,
having so well learned their course, fly back and forth as they did
before the mystic change from water into earth. Indeed, the first
impression one receives of the prairie is that of a vast sea of growing
vegetation!"

The Boy's eyes sparkled. This was the fanciful Father Paul that he
loved best of all.

"Some time we must go there, Father Paul. Is it not so?"