o his face, and allowed that
he wouldn't take his dirty money if he starved first, and that if the
old man broke the marriage he'd marry her again next year; that true
love and honorable poverty were better nor riches, and a lot more o'
that stuff he picked out o' them ten-cent novels he was allus reading.
My women-folks say that he actually liked the girl, because she was the
only one in the house that was ever kind to him; they say the girls were
just ragin' mad at the idea o' havin' a hired gal who had waited on 'em
as a sister-in-law, and they even got old Mammy Harcourt's back up by
sayin' that John's wife would want to rule the house, and run her out
of her own kitchen. Some say he shook THEM, talked back to 'em mighty
sharp, and held his head a heap higher nor them. Anyhow, he's livin'
with his wife somewhere in 'Frisco, in a shanty on a sand lot, and
workin' odd jobs for the newspapers. No! takin' it by and large--it
don't look as if Harcourt had run his family to the same advantage that
he has his land."

"Perhaps he doesn't understand them as well," said the stranger smiling.

"Mor'n likely the material ain't thar, or ain't as vallyble for a new
country," said Peters grimly. "I reckon the trouble is that he lets them
two daughters run him, and the man who lets any woman or women do that,
lets himself in for all their meannesses, and all he gets in return is a
woman's result,--show!"

Here the stranger, who was slowly rising from his chair with the polite
suggestion of reluctantly tearing himself from the speaker's spell,
said: "And Harcourt spends most of his time in San Francisco, I
suppose?"

"Yes! but to-day he's here to attend a directors' meeting and the
opening of the Free Library and Tasajara Hall. I saw the windows open,
and the blinds up in his house across the plaza as I passed just now."

The stranger had by this time quite effected his courteous withdrawal.
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Peters," he said, smilingly lifting his hat, and
turned away.

Peters, who was obliged to take his legs off the chair, and half rise
to the stranger's politeness, here reflected that he did not know his
interlocutor's name and business, and that he had really got nothing
in return for his information. This must be remedied. As the stranger
passed through the hall into the street, followed by the unwonted
civilities of the spruce hotel clerk and the obsequious attentions of
the negro porter, Peters stepped to the windo