eth
on aidge before I know it, some victuals riles my stomach jest to
mention 'em. I never c'ud abear castor-ile, jest the mention of it makes
me squirmy. Keith affects me that way, on'y in my mind, well as in the
pit of my stomach."

It was a lengthy diatribe from Miranda Bailey, accustomed as they were
to hear her state opinions freely. The trio at Three Star had
universally come to respect her decisions and also her intuitions and
none of them had felt especially cordial toward Keith as a man, though
they considered him good in his profession.

"The writer, Kiplin'," said Sandy, "wrote a poem about East an' West,
sayin' that never the two c'ud meet. I reckon he meant White Man an'
Yeller Man but, seems to me, sometimes they do breed mighty different
east an' west of the Mississippi. The man in New York is sure a heap
different from the man in Denver or San Francisco or Phoenix. Out here
we reckon a man is square till we find him out different an', back East,
they figger he's a crook till he proves he ain't--which is apt to be
some job. I don't cotton to Keith myse'f, because he ain't my kind of a
hombre. He don't talk my talk, or think my line of thought, any mo' than
he wears the same clothes or does the same work. Give him a cow pony or
strand me alongside one of them stock-market tickers an' we'd both look
foolish. I'm playin' him as square till I find he ain't. Ef he tries to
flamjigger Molly out of anything that's comin' to her by rights, why, I
reckon that's one time the West an' East is goin' to meet--an' mebbe lap
over a bit. So fur, he's put money in our pockets. Here's Molly...."

"I'm goin' home," said Miranda, as the girl entered the room. "I've got
you started an' I'll run over once in a while to see how Pedro is makin'
out."

She said good-by to Molly, who had swiftly changed out of her riding
clothes into a gown that looked simple enough to Sandy, though he sensed
there were touches about it that differentiated it from anything turned
out locally. With the dress she looked more womanly, older, than in the
boyish breeches. Miss Nicholson had made some changes also, but she had
a chameleon-like faculty of blending with the background that preserved
her alike from being criticized or conspicuous. As she shook hands with
Miranda the two presented marked contrasts. Miranda was
twentieth-century-western, of equal rights and equal enterprise; Miss
Nicholson mid-Victorian, with no more use for a vote than