t is so long a drive."

"Do let me hold him until you and Mr. Blake are ready," begged the
girl.

"I am not quite sure that--You will be careful not to drop him? He is
tremendously strong, and he squirms," dubiously assented the fond
mother. "Come, Tom. We must not keep Miss Knowles waiting."

Blake disappeared with her into the luxuriously furnished car.

"Isn't he a dear?" cooed the girl, clasping the baby to her bosom and
kissing his chubby clenched hands. He stared up into her glowing face
with his round light-blue eyes. "Thomas Blake!--Tom Blake!" she
whispered.

Ashton did not heed the words. He was gazing too intently at the girl
and the child. His eyes glistened with a wonderment and longing so
exquisitely intense that it was like a pain. The girl sank down in one
of the cane chairs and laid the baby on his back. He kicked and
gurgled, seized one of his upraised feet and thrust a pink big toe in
between his white milk teeth.

"That's more than you can do, Lafe!" challenged the girl.

She glanced up, dimpling with merriment,--met the adoration in his
eyes, and looked down, blushing. He attempted to speak, but the words
choked into an incoherent sound like a sob. He jumped from the car and
hurried to take the lines from the porter.

CHAPTER XIII

THE OTHER LADY'S HUSBAND

Miss Knowles did not seem to observe Ashton's deflection. She remained
worshipfully downbent over the wriggling, chuckling baby until its
parents reappeared.

Mrs. Blake had changed to an easy and serviceable dress of plain,
strong material. The skirt, cut to walking length, showed that
her feet and ankles were protected by a pair of absurdly small
laced boots. Her husband had shifted to an equally serviceable
costume--flannel shirt, broad-brimmed felt hat, and surveyor's
boots.

"Crossing the plains we packed a trunk with what we considered most
necessary," said Mrs. Blake, as she took the baby. "It is not a large
one, and in addition there is only my satchel and the level and the
lunch my maid is putting up for us."

"There is room for more, if you wish," replied Isobel. "But we can
send over here for anything you need, any time."

"You're not going to let us really rough-it!" complained Mrs. Blake,
as her husband swung her to the ground. "Were it not for Thomas
Herbert--"

"--We'd go to Africa again and eat lions," Blake completed the
sentence. "Wait, though--we may have a chance at mountain lions."

The porter h