New Mexico state record. (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1914-19??, 1919-04-04
CHAPTER VIII.
Under the Veneer,

An hour later lines, blinking from
the sun, stepped into the tent, which
had been partitioned with rough red.
wood boards into n bed chamber on
the right, n combination dining room
and "parlor' on the left. Her glance
Immediately segregated the three
stalks of pink geraniums in the center
of the Mexican drawn-work cloth that
covered the table. Gerry, herself, in a
fresh pink Bingham frock. was dancing
around the table to the tune of forks
and spoons. 1t was just like Gerry to
dress up to her setting, oven though 1t
were only a pitiful water-starved bOu-
quet. She had often tried to analyze
her sister-in-law's hold on her brother;
certainly they were not happy. Was 1t
because she made him comfortable?
Was 1t the little air Of fOrmality, or
mystery, which she drew around her?
Her rooms when lines was allowed to
enter them were always fiawless I;
Gerty took deep pride in her house
keeping. Why was it, lines wondered,
that she could shake off her sus-
picion Of az underlying untidiness?
There was always a closed door on
Gerty's processes.
May | help?" The sun was still
following the room to her.
"HellO!" Hardin looked up from
the couch where he was lying. lines
suspected 1t Of being a frequent re-
treat. She had found it tumbled once
when she ran over early. 1t was then
that Gerty made 1t understood that she
liked more Formally. hnes was rare
~ In that tent except for meals now,
or during her alternating week of
house chores.
Il was afraid l was late" said the
girl.
Lunch will be ready in a few min
utes." announced Gerry Hardin. won't
you sit down? There's the new Jour-
nal. Sam came to clean this morning,
and l couldn't get to the lunch until
an hour ago"
Innes, settling herself by the reading
table, caught herself observing that 1t
would not have taken her an hour to
get a cold lunch. Still, 1t would never
look so inviting. If Gerty's domestic
machinery was complicated and pri-
rate. the results always were admir-
able. The early tomatoes were peeled
as well as sliced, and were lying on a
bed of cracked ice. The ripe black
olives were resting in a lake of Cali
fornia olive oil. A bowl of crisp let
tuce had been iced and carefully dried.
The bread was cut in precise trlangles;
the butter had been shaved into for
roses A pitcher of the
valleys favorite beverage. iced tea,
stood by Hardin's plate. There was a
of cold meats.
Ii came home to lines for the hun
dredth time, the surprise of such a
meal in that desert. A few years ago,
and what had a meal been? She threw
the credit of the little lunch to sulky
Tom Hardin lying on the pOrtiere-cOv.
cred couch. his ugly lower lip out
thrust against an unsmiling vision. 1t
was Tom. Tom and his brave men, the
engineers, the dauntless sur
the Indians who had dug the
those were the ones who had
spread that pretty table, not the buxom
little woman darting about in pink
Bingham.
rs it because / don't like herr" she
nused, her eyes on the pictures in the
book which had just come in that
morning. Certainly Gerry did have the
Of a saint with Toms hu-
nors. If she would only lose that set
ook of %martyrdom, 1t was not for an
to judge between a husband
md wife, even If the man were her
brother. She could not put her {
on the germ of their painful {
Genes; she shrank from the recOllec- /,