ch a little
person--developed croup, and made the presence of a physician
necessary. He liked to glance across his lawn at night to the
commodious garage, visible in the moonlight, and think of his
treasures, locked up, guarded, perfect in every detail, and safe.

He and Mrs. White always spoke of Santa Paloma as a "jay" town, and
compared it, to its unutterable disadvantage, to other and larger
cities, but still, business reasons would always keep them there for
the greater part of the year, and they were both glad to hear that a
fabulously wealthy widow, and a woman prominent in every other respect
as well, had come to live in Santa Paloma. Mrs. White determined to
play her game very carefully with Mrs. Burgoyne; there should be no
indecent hurry, there should be no sudden overtures at friendship.
"But, poor thing! She will certainly find our house an oasis in the
desert!" Mrs. White comfortably decided, putting on the very handsomest
of her afternoon gowns to go and call formally at the Hall.

Mrs. Burgoyne and the little girls were always most cordial to
visitors. They spent these first days deep in gardening, great heaps of
fragrant dying weeds about them, and raw vistas through the pruned
trees already beginning to show the gracious slopes of the land, and
the sleepy Lobos down beneath the willows. The Carew children and the
little Browns were often there, fascinated by the outdoor work, as
children always are, and little Billy Valentine squirmed daily through
his own particular gap in the hedge, and took his share of the fun with
a deep and silent happiness. Billy gave Mrs. Burgoyne many a heartache,
with his shock of bright, unbrushed hair, his neglected grimed little
hands, his boyish little face that was washed daily according to his
own small lights, with surrounding areas of neck and ears wholly
overlooked, and his deep eyes, sad when he was sad, and somehow
infinitely more pathetic when he was happy. Sometimes she stealthily
supplied Billy with new garters, or fastened the buttons on his blue
overalls, or even gave him a spoonful of "meddy" out of a big bottle,
at the mere sight of which Ellen shuddered sympathetically; a dose
which was always followed by two marshmallows, out of a tin box, by way
of consolation. But further than this she dared not go, except in the
matter of mugs of milk, gingerbread, saucer-pies, and motherly kisses
for any bump or bruise.

The village women, coming up to the Hall, in