tourist," she said
scornfully, "can go to the Yosemite and be photographed under a redwood
tree."

"Do the Indians stay on the reservation?" Aggie asked feebly.

"Probably not," Tish observed coldly. "Once for all, Aggie--if you are
going to run like a scared deer every time you see an Indian or a bear,
I wish you would go to Asbury Park."

She forgot herself then and sat down quickly, an action which was
followed by an agonized expression.

"Tish," I said sharply, "you have been riding a horse!

"Only in a cinder ring," she replied with unwonted docility. "The
teacher said I would be a trifle stiff."

"How long did you ride?"

"Not more than twenty minutes," she said. "The lesson was to be an hour,
but somebody put a nickel in a mechanical piano, and the creature I was
on started going sideways."

Well, she had fallen off and had to be taken home in a taxicab. When
Aggie heard it she simply took the pins out of the map and stuck them in
Tish's cushion. Her mouth was set tight.

"I didn't really fall," Tish said. "I sat down, and it was cinders, and
not hard. It has made my neck stiff, that's all."

"That's enough," said Aggie. "If I've got to seek pleasure by ramming my
spinal column up into my skull and crowding my brains, I'll stay at
home."

"You can't fall out of a Western saddle," Tish protested rather
bitterly. "And if I were you, Aggie, I wouldn't worry about crowding my
brains."

However, she probably regretted this speech, for she added more gently:
"A high altitude will help your hay fever, Aggie."

Aggie said with some bitterness that her hay fever did not need to be
helped. That, as far as she could see, it was strong and flourishing. At
that matters rested, except for a bit of conversation just before we
left. Aggie had put on her sweater vest and her muffler and the jacket
of her winter suit and was getting into her fur coat, when Tish said:
"Soft as mush, both of you!"

"If you think, Tish Carberry," I began, "that I--"

"Apple dumplings!" said Tish. "Sofa pillows! Jellyfish! Not a muscle to
divide between you!"

I drew on my woolen tights angrily.

"Elevators!" Tish went on scornfully. "Street cars and taxicabs! No
wonder your bodies are mere masses of protoplasm, or cellulose, or
whatever it is."

"Since when," said Aggie, "have you been walking to develop yourself,
Tish? I must say--"

Here anger brought on one of her sneezing attacks, and she was unable to
finish.

Tish s