women spoiling you in one house and being jealous of each other--oh, you
needn't toss your fingers! Even two women that love each other can't
bear the competition. Just because I love her and want her to be happy,
off I go to your Aunt Amelia to live with her. She's poor, and I'll
still have someone to boss as I've bossed you. I never knew how much I
loved Amelia till she got sick last year when everything terrible was
happening here. I'm going, Orlando--

Two birds hopping on one branch
Would kill the joy of Slow Down Ranch--

"There, I made that up on the moment. It's true, even if it is poetry."

"It isn't poetry, mother," was the reply, and there was an ironical look
in Orlando's eyes. "Poetry's the truth of life," he hastened to add
carefully, "and it's not poetry to say that you could be a kill-joy."

The little lady tossed her head. "Well, you'll never have a chance to
prove it, for I'm taking the express east on the night of your wedding.
That's settled. Amelia needs me, and I'm going to her. . . . Your
wedding present will be the ranch and a hundred thousand dollars," she
added.

"You're the sun-dried fruit of Paradise, Mother," Orlando said, taking
her by the arms.

"I heard the Young Doctor call me a bird of Paradise once," she returned.
"People don't know how sharp my ears are. . . . But I never stored it
up against him. Taste is born in you, and if people haven't got it in
the cradle, they never have it. I suppose his mother went around in a