pony with a bunch of grass. And I saw
him careering back to neigh in your face."

"Oh, Peggy, I wish Monsieur Reece Zhone could but hear what you say. Do
teach me some of your clever ridicule. It must be that I take suitors
too seriously."

"Thank you," said Peggy dryly, "I need it all for my second-hand lot. He
is the worst fool of any of them."

"Take care, Peggy, you rouse me. Why is a man a fool for loving me?"

"He said he loved you, then?"

The Saucier negroes were gathering on doorsteps, excited by the day and
the bustle of crowds which still hummed in the streets. Now a line of
song was roared from the farthest cabin, and old and young voices all
poured themselves into a chorus. A slender young moon showed itself
under foliage, dipping almost as low as the horizon. Under all other
sounds of life, but steadily and with sweet monotony, the world of
little living things in grass and thicket made itself heard. The dewy
darkness was a pleasure to Angelique, but Peggy moved restlessly, and
finally clasped her hands behind her neck and leaned against the window
side, watching as well as she could the queen of hearts opposite. She
could herself feel Angelique's charm of beautiful health and outreaching
sympathy. Peggy was a candid girl, and had no self-deceptions. But she
did have that foreknowledge of herself which lives a germ in some
unformed girls whose development surprises everybody. She knew she could
become a woman of strength and influence, the best wife in the Territory
for an ambitious man who had the wisdom to choose her. Her sharp
fairness would round out, moreover, and her red head, melting the snows
which fell in middle age on a Morrison, become a softly golden and
glorious crown. At an age when Angelique would be faded, Peggy's richest
bloom would appear. She was like the wild grapes under the bluffs; it
required frost to ripen her. But women whom nature thus obliges to wait
for beauty seldom do it graciously; transition is not repose.

"Well, which is it to be, Rice Jones or Pierre Menard? Be candid with
me, Angelique, as I would be with you. You know you will have to decide
some time."

"I do not think Monsieur Reece Zhone is for me," said Angelique, with
intuitive avoidance of Colonel Menard's name; Peggy cared nothing for
the fate of Colonel Menard. "Indeed, I believe his mind dwells more on
his sister now than on any one else."

"I hate people's relations!" cried Peggy brutally; "especiall