o him and he ain't done right in
not going to see her for thirty years--and if he's that close to the big
town he could run over from Jersey City for a look--see.

Lon and Ben hail his generous decision with cheers and on the way to
another place they meet me, just down from the ranch. And why don't I
come along with the bunch? Ben has it all fixed in ten seconds, he being
one of these talkers that will odd things along till they sound even,
and the other two chiming in with him and wanting to buy my ticket right
then. But I hesitated some. Lon and Ben Sutton was all right to go with,
but Jeff Tuttle was a different kittle of fish. Jeff is a decent man in
many respects and seems real refined when you first meet him if it's in
some one's parlour, but he ain't one you'd care to follow step by step
through the mazes and pitfalls and palmrooms of a great city if you're
sensitive to public notice. Still, they was all so hearty in their
urging, Ben saying I was the only lady in the world he could travel that
far with and not want to strangle, and Lon says he'd rather have me than
most of the men he knew, and Jeff says if I'll consent to go he'll take
his full-dress suit so as to escort me to operas and lectures in a
classy manner, and at last I give up. I said I'd horn in on their party
since none of 'em seemed hostile.

I'd meant to go a little later anyway, for some gowns I needed and some
shopping I'd promised to do for Lizzie Gunslaugh. You got to hand it to
New York for shopping. Why, I'd as soon buy an evening gown in Los
Angeles as in Portland or San Francisco. Take this same Lizzie
Gunslaugh. She used to make a bare living, with her sign reading "Plain
and Fashionable Dressmaking." But I took that girl down to New York
twice with me and showed her how and what to buy there, instead of going
to Spokane for her styles, and to-day she's got a thriving little
business with a bully sign that we copied from them in the East
--"Madame Elizabeth, Robes et Manteaux." Yes, sir; New York has at least
one real reason for taking up room. That's a thing I always try to get
into Ben Sutton's head, that he'd ought to buy his clothes down there
instead of getting 'em from a reckless devil-dare of a tailor up in
Seattle that will do anything in the world Ben tells him to--and he
tells him a plenty, believe me. He won't ever wear a dress suit,
either, because he says that costume makes all men look alike and he
ain't going to stifle hi