stand for that; I'm _lean_ enough, without havin' it throwed up to me. We
might jest as well start in the way we're likely to keep it up, and you
won't feel so much like a stranger.

"I'm awful glad you're going to settle here--there ain't so awful many
women in the country; we have to rake and scrape to git enough for three
sets when we have a dance--and more likely we can't make out more 'n two.
D' you dance? Somebody said they seen a fiddle box down to the depot, with
a couple of big trunks; d' you play the fiddle?"

"A little," Valeria smiled faintly.

"Well, that'll come in awful handy at dances. We'd have 'em real often in
the winter if it wasn't such a job to git music. Well, I got too much to do
to be standin' here talkin'. I have to keep right after that breed girl all
the time, or she won't do nothing. I'll git my old man after your fellow
right away. Jest make yourself to home, and anything you want ask for it
in the kitchen." She smiled in friendly fashion and closed the door with a
little slam to make sure that it latched.

Valeria stood for a moment with her hands hanging straight at her
sides, staring absently at the door. Then she glanced at Walt, staring
wooden-faced from his gilt frame upon his gilt easel, and shivered. She
pushed the red plush chair as far away from him as possible, sat down with
her back to the picture, and immediately felt his dull, black eyes boring
into her back.

"What a fool I must be!" she said aloud, glancing reluctantly over her
shoulder at the portrait. She got up resolutely, placed the chair where it
had stood before, and stared deliberately at Walt, as if she would prove