"I don't want any old grass widow to keep house," protested Della.
"I'm getting along well enough, so long as Patsy bakes the bread,
and meat, and cake, and stuff. It's just fun to keep house. The
only trouble is, there isn't half enough to keep me busy. I'm going
to get a license to practice medicine, so if there's any sickness
around I can be of some use. You say it's fifty miles to the nearest
doctor. But that needn't make a grass widow necessary. I can keep
house--it looks better than when I came, and you know it." Which
remark would have hurt the feelings of several well-meaning cow-
punchers, had they overheard it.

"Oh, I ain't finding fault with your housekeeping--you do pretty well
for a green hand. But Patsy'll have to go with the round-up when it
starts, and what men I keep on the ranch will have to eat with us.
That's the way I've been used to fixing things; I was never so good
I couldn't eat at the same table with my men; if they wasn't fit for
my company I fired 'em and got fellows that was. I've had this bunch
a good long while, now. You can do all right with just me, but you
couldn't cook for two or three men; you can't cook good enough, even
if it wasn't too much work." J. G. had a blunt way of stating
disagreeable facts, occasionally.

"Very well, get your grass widow by all means," retorted she with much
wasted dignity.

"She's a swell cook, and a fine housekeeper, and shell keep yuh from
getting lonesome. She's good company, the Countess is." He grinned
when he said it "I'll have Chip ketch up the creams, and you get ready
and go along with us. It'll give you a chance to size up the kind uh