e is
tired."

"I want Be'trice!" Dorman set up his everyday howl, which started the
dogs barking outside. His guardian angel attempted to soothe him, but he
would have none of her; he only howled the louder, and kicked.

"There, there, honey, I'll go. Where's your hat?"

"Beatrice, you had better stay in the house; you have done quite enough
for one day." The tone of the mother suggested things.

"It is imperative," said Beatrice, "for the peace and the well-being of
this household, that Dorman find his penny without delay." When
Beatrice adopted that lofty tone her mother was in the habit of saying
nothing--and biding her time. Beatrice was so apt, if mere loftiness did
not carry the day, to go a step further and flatly refuse to obey. Mrs.
Lansell preferred to yield, rather than be openly defied.

So the three went off to find the shiny penny--and in exactly
thirty-five minutes they found it. I will not say that they could not
have found it sooner, but, at any rate, they didn't, and they reached
the house about two minutes behind Dick and Sir Redmond, which did not
improve Sir Redmond's temper to speak of.

After that, Keith did not need much urging from Dick to spend the rest
of the afternoon at the "Pool" ranch. When he wanted to, Keith could be
very nice indeed to people; he went a long way, that afternoon, toward
making a friend of Miss Hayes; but Mrs. Lansell, who was one of those
women who adhere to the theory of First Impressions, in capitals,
continued to regard him as an incipient outlaw, who would, in time and
under favorable conditions, reveal his true character, and vindicate her
keen insight into human nature. There was one thing which Mrs. Lansell
never forgave Keith Cameron, and that was the ruin of her watch, which
refused to run while she was in Montana.

That night, when Beatrice was just snuggling down into the delicious
coolness of her pillow, she heard someone rap softly, but none the less
imperatively, on her door. She opened one eye stealthily, to see her
mother's pudgy form outlined in the feeble moonlight.

"Beatrice, are you asleep?"

Beatrice did not say yes, but she let her breath out carefully in a
slumbrous sigh. It certainly sounded as if she were asleep.

"Be-atrice!" The tone, though guarded, was insistent.

The head of Beatrice moved slightly, and settled back into its little
nest, for all the world like a dreaming, innocent baby.

If she had not been the mother of Beatr