The Winslow mail., 1914-01-24
CHAPTER ii.

out hammock on the vine
shaded gallery, where Jean Chaplin
was writing letters, while the discon-
large, vaguely injured at her lack OF
appreciation.
Absent-mindedly, the girls dipped
into the box of bonbons between them.
Jean finished her correspondence and
essayed conversation, but her compan-
ions blond head was bowed over the
book in her lap, and the effort met
with no response. Lulled by the SOM
nfferous droning of insects and lazy
echoes from afar, Miss Chaplin was
on the verge of slumber, when she
saw her guest rapidly turn the last
pages of her novel, then, with choco-
late between her teeth, read vide
the book reluctantly, uncurled slowly,
then stared out through the dancing
heat-waves, her blue eyes shadowed
with romance.
''Did she marry him?" queried Jean.
"No, mol" Helen Blake sighed, bliss
fully. ut was infinitely finer. She
killed herself"
81 like to see them get married"
Naturally. You are at that stage.
But think suicide is more glorious,
in many cases."
Miss Chaplin, yawned openly. Speak.
ing of suicides. isn't this ranch the
deadest placer"
"Oh, ] don't think 80 at ALL"
"Oh yes, you do, and you needn't be
polite just because you're a guest"
I We'll, then, to be as truthful as a
boarder, 1t is little dull. Not zfor
our chaperon, though. The time
doesn't seem to drag on her hands
Jack certainly is making it. pleasant
for her" .,t e,
"1f you call taking her out to watch
lot Of believing calves get branded.
entertainment" Miss Chaplin sighed.
Miss Blake leaned forward and read
the inscription on her companion's 8
medal. "Oh, isn't it heavy!" feeling
1t reverently.
Pure gold, like himself! You
should have seen him when he won 1t.
Why, at the finish of that race all the
men but Culver were making the
most horrible faces. They were sim
ply dead"
Miss Blake's hands were clasped in
her lap. "They all make faces" said
she. Have you told Roberta about
your engagement"
mo, she doesn't dream of it, and ]
don't want her to know. I'm so afraid
she'll think. now that mother has
gone, that / asked her here Just as
Culver comes"
Il have heard Culver speak of him,
but never as an athlete. Have you
and Mr.. Speed settled things between
you, Helen? / mean, has he--said any.
thing?'s
Miss Blake flushed.
Not exactly" She adjusted a
cushion to cover her confusion, then
leaned back complacently. But he
has suffered dangerously several
times"
A musical tinkle of silver spurs
sounded in the distance, and around
the corner Of the cook.house opposite
came Carara, the Mexican. his wide,
spangled, sombrero tipped rakishly
over one ear, a corn-husk cigarette
/ dropping from his lips.
'It's that romantic sSpaniard!'. wnis-
pered Helen. What does he want?''
! ITS his afternoon call on Marie
delta. the maid" said Jean. They
meet there twice a day, morning and
afternoon" r
"a lovers tryst!" breathed Miss
Blake, eagerly. Isn't he graceful and
picturesque! Can we watch them?'
"'Sh-h! There she comes!"
From the opposite direction ap-
peared slim, swarthy Mexican girl,
an Indian water-jug balanced upon her
shoulders. She was clad In the
straight-hanging native garment, belt
ed in with sash; her feet were in
sandals, and she moved as silently as
shadow. ii
During the four days since Miss
Blake's arrival at the Flying Heart
Ranch she had seen Mariedetta fit
ting noiselessly here and there, but
had never heard her speak. The pret.
ty, expressionless face beneath the
straight black hair had ever retained
its wooden stofidlty, the veIvety eyes
haS not laughed nor frowned nor
sperkled. She seemed to be merely
q part Of this far southwestern pic
ture: bit OF iranimate yet breath,
ing local color. Now, however, the
girl dropped her jug, and with 8 low
cry glided to her lover, who tossed
aside his cigarette and took her in his
arms From this distance their words
were indistinguishabie
How perfectly romantin" said tbs