nd I told him I'd die
first. Still, I could see I was going to be made over considerable.

As for Bonnie Bell, when she went down the avenue, where the wind blows
mostly all the time, she looked like she'd lived there in the city all
her life. She always had a good color in her cheeks from living
out-of-doors and riding so much, and she was right limber and sort of
thin. Her hat was sort of little and put some on one side. Her shoes was
part white and part black, the way they wore 'em then, and her stockings
was the color of her dress; and her dress was right in line, like the
things you saw along in the store windows.

It was winter when we hit Chicago and she wore furs--dark ones--and her
muff was shore stylish. When she put it up to the side of her face to
keep off the wind she was so easy to look at that a good many people
would turn round and look at her. I don't know what folks thought of her
pa and me, but Bonnie Bell didn't look like she'd come from Wyoming.
Once two young fellows followed her clear to the door of the hotel,
where they met me. They went away right soon after that.

Bonnie Bell just moved into Chicago like it was easy for her. As for Old
Man Wright, about all him and me could do was to go down to the
stockyards and see where the beef was coming from. We looked for some of
our brand, and when he seen some of the Circle Arrow cows come in he
wouldn't hardly talk to anybody for two or three days.

I never did see where Bonnie Bell's new house was, because she said it
was a secret from me. Her pa told me that he paid round two hundred and
twenty-five thousand dollars for the land, without no house on it.

"Why, at that," says I, "you'll be putting up a house there that'll cost
over six thousand dollars, like enough!"

Bonnie Bell hears me and says she:

"I shouldn't wonder a bit if it would cost even more than that. Anybody
that is somebody has to have a good house, here in Chicago."

"Are we somebody, sis?" says Old Man Wright, sudden.

"Dear old dad!" says she, and she kisses him some more. "We'll be
somebody before we quit this game--believe me!"

"Curly," says the old man to me soon after, "that girl's got
looks--Lord! I didn't know it till I seen her all dressed up the way she
is here. She's got class--I don't know where she got it, but she has.
She's got brains--Lord knows where she got them; certain not from me.
She's got sand too--you can't stop her noways on earth. If she starts
s