rried till you find yourself. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'm
putting it up to you to make good, Billy."

Chetwood nodded soberly, but his eyes smiled.

"I'll make good," he said. "I'll go and see this Judge Riley--about a
homestead. And now, Jean darling, will you oblige me by the size of that
pretty little third finger."

"You are not to spend any money on rings. Keep it for the homestead."

"Oh da--er--I mean high heaven hates a piker. Can't allow you to go
ringless. It's not done, really. I'm going to have my own way. Nothing
elaborate. Just a simple, little ring, costing, say, fifty pounds--"

"Fifty pounds!" Jean gasped. "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Why, I
couldn't--"

"Does sound more in dollars. Tell you what I'll do. I have a ring at
home. It belonged to my mother. I'll send for it if you don't mind."

"I should be proud of your mother's ring," said Jean.

"I think," said Chetwood, "that she would be proud to have you wear it."

"Billy," said Jean, "that's just the nicest thing you ever said--or ever
will say."

CHAPTER XXVIII

MRS. FOLEY ON MARRIAGE

Faith and Angus were to be married at Faith's ranch. There was small
preparation, to the scandal of Mrs. Foley.

"Sure I niver thought to see ye go off this way, wid no style about ye!"
she mourned. "Foour min have I tuk, hopin' th' bether an' gettin' th'
worse, but annyways ivery time they was lashin's to ate an' dhrink, an'
all the folks there we knowed an' plenty we didn't. But here ye're
fixin' for nobody at all."

"Well, there won't be anybody," Faith replied. "It's to be a very quiet
wedding."

"Ye may say that," Mrs. Foley agreed. "All th' differ' bechune it an' a
death-bed will be a docther an' a nurse."

"Oh it's not as bad as that, Mary," Faith laughed. "I really prefer it
that way."

"Bein' a woman mesilf, I know ye're lyin'," Mrs. Foley returned
uncompromisingly. "'Tis not the nacher iv us to dispinse wid frills in
annything."

Faith laughed, stifling a sigh. She had had her dreams. But she was
quite content. Mrs. Foley ran on:

"Sure, thin, iver since ye was a little tot I've been thinkin' that some
day I'd see ye comin' up th' aisle in a big church on yer blessed
father's arrum, all in white wid a big bookay an' veil an' orange
blossoms an' all; an' th' organist tearin' th' bowils out iv th' organ
whiles, an' th' choir rippin' loose; an' a foine fat bishop or th'
loikes, wid a grand voice rowlin' th' solem