out in that gawky Dunkard gown-----"

"Gawky?" said I. "Why, man, on a woman like that a plain dress is
simply quaint. She looks like an old Dutch picture. You must not let
her change it."

The insinuation of his authority made Tim pound the table with his
pipe. He was striving to be angry, but I knew what that furious flush
of his face meant. He tried to conceal it by smoking again, but ended
in a laugh.

"Oh, nonsense!" he said. Then he laughed again.

"Tell me," I went on, following up my advantage, "when is she coming
here, or when are you going to move up there?"

My brother recovered his composure.

"It's all silly, Mark. There is no chance of a girl like that settling
down here with a clumsy fellow like me--a fellow who doesn't know
anything, who's never been anywhere, who's never seen anything. Why,
she's travelled; she's from Kansas; she's lived in big cities. This is
nothing but a lark for her. She'll go away some day, and she'll leave
us here, grubbing away on our bit of a farm and spending our savings on
powder and shot--until we get to the happy hunting grounds."

Tim laughed mournfully. "I've been just a little foolish," he went on,
"but I couldn't help it, Mark. It doesn't amount to anything; it never
did and never will, and now that you're here and the rabbit season will
soon be in, we'll have other things to think of. But you must remember