are brains."

He laughed outright now.

"The power of the press! Correct, Miss Tisdale."

"And Andy P. Symes----" Van Lennop supplied dryly--"is family. He had a
great-grandfather, I believe."

Van Lennop returned the persistent, pleading stare of Alphonse and
Gaston while Essie pondered this bewildering subject.

"But out here it's mostly money that counts, or rather will count in the
future."

"Yes, with a man of Symes's type it would be nearly the only
qualification necessary. If you had been the 'rich Miss Tisdale' you
undoubtedly would have been the guest of honor."

"Then," she said chokingly, "my good times are over, for I'm--nobody
knows who--just Essie Tisdale--a biscuit-shooter whose friendship counts
for nothing."

With feminine intuition she grasped Crowheart's new point of view, and
Van Lennop, because he knew human nature, could not contradict her, but
in the security of his own position he could not fully understand how
much it all meant to her in her small world.

"You mustn't take this to heart," he said gently, conscious of a strong
desire to comfort her. "If the cost of an invitation were a single tear
it would be too high a price to pay. In explaining to you what the world
recognizes in a general way as 'Society,' I had no thought of Crowheart
in my mind. There can be no 'Society' in Crowheart with its present
material. What it is obvious this man Symes means to attempt, is only an
absurd imitation of something he can never hope to attain. The effort
resembles the attempts of a group of amateurs to present a Boucicault
comedy, while 'in front' the world laughs at them, not with them. It is
a dangerous experiment to pretend to be anything other than what you
are. It means loss of dignity, for you are merely absurd when you
attempt to play a part which by birth and training and temperament you
are nowise fitted to play. You become a target for the people whom you
care most to impress.

"When one begins to imitate he loses his individuality and his
individuality is the westerner's chief charm. Be yourself, Essie
Tisdale, be simple, sincere, and you can never be absurd.

"I am sorry for what you have told me, since, if what seems threatening
comes to pass, Crowheart will be only a middle class, commonplace town
of which it has a thousand prototypes. Its strongest attraction now is
its western flavor, the lingering atmosphere of the frontier. This must
pass with time, of course, but it seem