Gilpin observer., 1919-05-29

Gerty teasing Tom to wear his Tux
edo.
isn't one dude enough for your"
growled her surly lord. Innes recog-
nized the mood and shrank from the
ordeal ahead. It was the mood Of
the Hardin in the rough, the son of
his frontier mother, the fruit of old
Jasper Gingg, whose smithy had been
the rendezvous for the widest roughs,
the fiercest cattlemen in Missouri.
I'D let him see you knew what's
what. even If we do live like gipsies."
The answer to that was another
growl. Innes could hear him dragging
out the process. grumbling over each
detail. That confounded laundry had
torn his shirt. He hadn't a decent
collar to his name. Where was his
black string tie? If Cert would keep
his things in the lowest drawerl Hang
that buttonl Gerty emerged from the
encounter. her face very red. Innes
could see her biting her lips to keep
the tears back as she put the last
touches to the table.
"She's tired out" thought the sister
of Tom Hardin. "She's probably
fused herself to death over this din
ner."
A few minutes later Rickard ar
rived In sack suit of tweeds. Gerty's
greeting was little distracted. How
could she make Innes understand to
tell Tom to change his coat? The
duty Of a host, she suddenly remem-
bered, was to dress down rather than
up to the chances of his guest. She
regretted bitterly her insistence. Was
ever anyone so obtuse as Innes? Mr..
Rickard would see that they thought
1t big event. She was watching the
curtain where Tom would emerge.
And his coat was a style Of several
seasons ago and absurdly tightl She
made an unintelligible excuse and
darted behind the pOrtiere.
Toms face was apoplectic. He was
wrestling with mussed tie; the col
lar showed desperate struggle.
Gerty made wild signals for him to
change his clothes. She waved a
hand indicating Rickard; she pointed
to Toms sack suit lying on the floor
where he had walked out of it.
'What is 1t all about2"
"Ssh," whispered his wife. Again
the wild gestures.
swell, aren't you satisfied Don't
1 look like guyf"
He could be heard distinctly in the
next room. Gerty gave 1t up in de-
spair. She dabbed some more powder
on her nose and went out looking like
martyr-a very pretty martyr!
Rickard praised the miracles Of the
tent. Gerty's soft flush reminded In
mes of their old relation. exit Innes,"
she was thinking. when Tom, red and
perspiring, brought another element
of discomfort into the room.
Gerty ushered them Immediately ia
the table. She covered the first min.
utes which might be awkward with
her small chatter. Somewhere she
had read that 1t was not well to make
apologies for lack of maid or fare
Besides Mr.. Rickard remembered
Lawrencel That dreadful dining
room, the ever-set tablet How she
had hated 1t, though she had no
known how fearful 1t was until she
had escaped.
1--WE are simple folk here, Mr.. Rick
ard" she announced. as they tool
their places around the pretty table
That was her only allusion to deficien
cies, but 1t covered her noiseless move
ments around the board betweei
courses. filled up the gaps when sh,
made necessary dives into kitchen O
primitive Ice chest, and set the Ike,
for the LONELINESS Of the meal itself
The dinner was triumph of apparen
simplicity. Only Innes could CUES
the time consumed In the perfection
OF detail, details dear to the hostess
heart. The almonds she had blanched
OF course. herself; had dipped an,
salted them. The cheese straws wer
her own. She did not make the mis-
take Of stringing out endless courses
An improvised buffet near at han,
made the serving a triumph.
Rickard praised each dish; openl
ho was admiring her achievement
Times. remembering the story Cert
h1d told her In dots and dashes, tn
story Of the old rivalry. glanced GOV