"That's good old Montana English, mother. You'll learn it yourself
before you leave here. I've clean forgot how they used the English
language at Yale, haven't you, Keith?"

"Just about," Keith agreed. "I'm afraid we'll shock the ladies
terribly, Dick. We ought to get out on a pinnacle with a good grammar
and practice."

"Well, maybe. We'll look for you to-morrow, sure. I want you to help map
out a circle or two for Trix. About next week she'll want to get out and
scour the range."

"Dear me, Richard! Beatrice is not a charwoman!" This, you will
understand, was from his mother; perhaps you will also understand that
she spoke with the rising inflection which conveys a reproof.

When Keith Cameron left them he was laughing quietly to himself, and
Beatrice's chin was set rather more than usual.



CHAPTER 3

A Tilt With Sir Redmond.


Beatrice, standing on the top of a steep, grassy slope, was engaged in
the conventional pastime of enjoying the view. It was a fine view, but
it was not half as good to look upon as was Beatrice herself, in her
fresh white waist and brown skirt, with her brown hair fluffing softly