ancestors of the Apache and Kiowa and Arapahoe and
Comanche, and you can see why they differ from our tribes here in
Eastern Kansas. Le Claire has done his part toward the purchase of the
Plains, and I am glad for the quiet years before him."

* * * * *

It was the custom in Springvale for every girl to go up to Topeka for
the final purchases of her bridal belongings. We were to be married in
October. In the late September days Mrs. Whately and her daughter spent
a week at the capital city. I went up at the end of the visit to come
home with them. Since the death of Irving Whately nothing had ever
roused his wife to the pleasure of living like this preparation for
Marjie's marriage, and Mrs. Whately, still a young and very pretty
woman, bloomed into that mature comeliness that carries a grace of
permanence the promise of youth may only hint at. She delighted in every
detail of the coming event, and we two most concerned were willing to
let anybody look after the details. We had other matters to think about.

"Come, little sweetheart," I said one night after supper at the Teft
House, "your mother is to spend the evening with a friend of hers. I
want to take you for a walk."

Strange how beautiful Topeka looked to me this September. It had all the
making of a handsome city even then, although the year since I came up
to the political rally had brought no great change except to extend the
borders somewhat. Like two happy young lovers we strolled out toward the
southwest, past the hole in the ground that was to contain the
foundation of the new wings for the State Capitol, past Washburn
College, and on to where the slender little locust tree waved its dainty
lacy branches in graceful welcome.

"Marjie, I want you to see this tree. It's not the first time I have
been here. Rachel--Mrs. Tillhurst--and I came here a few times."
Marjie's hand nestled softly against my arm. "I always made faces at it
as soon as I got away from it; but it is a beautiful little tree, and I
want to put you with it in my mind. It was here last Fall that my father
said he didn't believe that you were engaged to Amos Judson."

"Didn't believe," Marjie cried; "why, Phil, he knew I wasn't. I told him
so when he was asked to urge me to marry Amos."

"He urge you to marry Amos! Now Marjie, girl, I hate to be hard on the
gentleman; but if he did that it's my duty to scalp him, and I will go
home and do it."

But Mar