large wooden structure
in the pseudo-classic style affected by Westerners, with an incongruous
cupola, it was oddly enough relieved by a still more incongruous veranda
extending around its four sides, upheld by wooden Doric columns, which
were already picturesquely covered with flowering vines and sun-loving
roses. Mr. Spindler had trusted the furnishing of its interior to the
same contractor who had upholstered the gilded bar-room of the Eureka
Saloon, and who had apparently bestowed the same design and material,
impartially, on each. There were gilded mirrors all over the house and
chilly marble-topped tables, gilt plaster Cupids in the corners, and
stuccoed lions "in the way" everywhere. The tactful hands of Mrs. Price
had screened some of these with seasonable laurels, fir boughs, and
berries, and had imparted a slight Christmas flavor to the house. But
the greater part of her time had been employed in trying to subdue the
eccentricities of Spindler's amazing relations; in tranquilizing Mrs.
"Aunt" Martha Spindler,--the elderly cook before alluded to,--who was
inclined to regard the gilded splendors of the house as indicative
of dangerous immorality; in restraining "Cousin" Morley Hewlett
from considering the dining-room buffet as a bar for "intermittent
refreshment;" and in keeping the weak-minded nephew, Phinney Spindler,
from shooting at bottles from the veranda, wearing his uncle's clothes,
or running up an account in his uncle's name for various articles at
the general stores. Yet the unlooked-for arrival of the two children had
been the one great compensation and diversion for her. She wrote at once
to her nieces a brief account of her miraculous deliverance. "I think
these poor children dropped from the skies here to make our Christmas
party possible, to say nothing of the sympathy they have created in
Rough and Ready for Spindler. He is going to keep them as long as
he can, and is writing to the father. Think of the poor little tots
traveling a thousand miles to 'Krissmass,' as they call it!--though they
were so well cared for by the messengers that their little bodies were
positively stuffed like quails. So, you see, dear, we will be able to
get along without airing your famous idea. I'm sorry, for I know you're
just dying to see it all."

Whatever Kate's "idea" might have been, there certainly seemed now no
need of any extraneous aid to Mrs. Price's management. Christmas came at
last, and the dinner passe