g to hear about it!" said Miss Bascombe. "A
highwayman above all! How delicious!"

"Was he handsome?" asked one of the ladies, foolishly, as if that had
anything to say to it.

"Wait," said Mrs. Boyd, who assumed a grave expression of countenance,
which we felt to be due to the recollection of the danger she had run.
We also looked serious, as in politeness bound, and sat in eager
expectation of her story.

"One day we were all invited to spend the whole afternoon at a
neighbour's house. We were to go early for dinner at half-past twelve,
stay until tea at five, and then drive home in the evening. The
neighbour lived twelve miles away, but as there was to be a moon we
anticipated no difficulty in driving home over the prairie. You see, as
a rule, people are not out after dark in those wild regions; they get up
very early, work hard all day, and are quite ready to go to bed soon
after sunset. Anyway, there is no twilight; the sun sets, and it is dark
almost immediately. When the day came, Emily (my sister, you know, with
whom I was staying) wasn't able to go because the baby was not at all
well, and she could not leave him for so long a time. So my
brother-in-law and I set off alone, promising to come home early. I
enjoyed the drive over the prairie very much, and we got to our
destination about midday. Then we had dinner, a regular out-West dinner,
all on the table together, everything very good and very plentiful. We
dined in the kitchen, of course, and after dinner I helped Mrs. Hewstead
to wash up the dishes, and then we went out and sat on the north side of
the house in the shade and gossiped, while the men went and inspected
some steam-ploughs and corn-planters, and what not. Then at five o'clock
we had supper. Dear me! when I think of that square meal, and then look
at this table, I certainly realise there is a world of difference
between England and Arkansas."

"Why," said Miss Bascombe, "don't they have tea in America?"

"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Boyd, "we had tea and coffee, any number of
cakes and pies, and the coloured man brought up a wheelbarrowful of
water-melons and piled them on the floor, and we ate them all!"

"Dear me," I remarked, "what a very extraordinary repast! I think you
must have felt rather uncomfortable after such a gorge."

"Oh dear, no," returned Mrs. Boyd, smiling; "one can eat simply an
unlimited quantity of water-melons on those thirsty plains. The water is
always sickeningly warm