't back
from Sacramento yet."

Grateful as a tete-a-tete with his old neighbor in her more prosperous
surroundings would have been, if only for the sake of later gossiping
about it, he felt it would be inconsistent with his pride and his
assumption of present business. More than that, he was uneasily
conscious that in Mrs. Tucker's simple and unaffected manner there was
a greater superiority than he had ever noticed during their previous
acquaintance. He would have felt kinder to her had she shown any
"airs and graces," which he could have commented upon and forgiven. He
stammered some vague excuse of preoccupation, yet lingered in the hope
of saying something which, if not aggressively unpleasant, might at
least transfer to her indolent serenity some of his own irritation.
"I reckon," he said, as he moved hesitatingly towards the door, "that
Spencer has made himself easy and secure in them business risks he's
taking. That 'ere Alameda ditch affair they're talking so much about
is a mighty big thing, rather TOO big if it ever got to falling back on
him. But I suppose he's accustomed to take risks?"

"Of course he is," said Mrs. Tucker gayly. "He married ME."

The visitor smiled feebly, but was not equal to the opportunity offered
for gallant repudiation. "But suppose you ain't accustomed to risks?"

"Why not? I married HIM," said Mrs. Tucker.

Mr. Calhoun Weaver was human, and succumbed to this last charming
audacity. He broke into a noisy but genuine laugh, shook Mrs. Tucker's
hand with effusion, said, "Now that's regular Blue Grass and no
mistake!" and retreated under cover of his hilarity. In the hall he
made a rallying stand to repeat confidentially to the servant who had
overheard them: "Blue Grass, all over, you bet your life," and, opening
the door, was apparently swallowed up in the tempest.

Mrs. Tucker's smile kept her lips until she had returned to her room,
and even then languidly shone in her eyes for some minutes after, as
she gazed abstractedly from her window on the storm-tossed bay in the
distance. Perhaps some girlish vision of the peaceful Blue Glass plain
momentarily usurped the prospect; but it is to be doubted if there was
much romance in that retrospect, or that it was more interesting to her
than the positive and sharply cut outlines of the practical life she now
held. Howbeit she soon forgot this fancy in lazily watching a boat that,
in the teeth of the gale, was beating round Alcatraz Isl