nstane Sandy, who was taking his Sabbath bath in the
bunk-house, loudly opened the window and stared out with a dourly
reproving countenance, which said as plain as words: "This is nae the
day for whustlin', folks!"

But little Dinkie, obviously excited by the music, shouted "A-more!
A-more!" so we went on, disregarding Whinnie and the bunk-house window
and Struthers' acrid stare from the shack-door. I was in the middle of
Fay Templeton's lovely old _Rosie, You Are My Posey_, when Lady Alicia
rode up, as spick and span as though she'd just pranced off Rotten
Row. And as I'd no intention of showing the white feather to her
ladyship, I kept right on to the end. Then I looked up and waved the
banjo at her where she sat stock-still on her mount. There was an
enigmatic look on her face, but she laughed and waved back, whereupon
Peter got up, and helped her dismount as she threw her reins over the
pony's head.

I noticed that her eye rested very intently on Peter's face as I
introduced him, and he in turn seemed to size the stately newcomer up
in one of those lightning-flash appraisals of his. Then Lady Allie
joined our circle, and confessed that she'd been homesick for a sight
of the kiddies, especially Dinkie, whom she took on her knee and
regarded with an oddly wistful and abstracted manner.

My hired man, I noticed, was in no way intimidated by a title in our
midst, but wagered that Lady Allie's voice would be a contralto and
suggested that we all try _On the Road to Mandalay_ together. But Lady
Allie acknowledged that she had neither a voice nor an ear, and would
prefer listening. We couldn't remember the words, however, and the
song wasn't much of a success. I think the damper came when Struthers
stepped out into full view, encased in my big bungalow-apron of
butcher's linen. Lady Alicia, after the manner of the English, saw her
without seeing her. There wasn't the flicker of an eyelash, or a
moment's loss of poise. But it seemed too much like a Banquo at the
feast to go on with our banjo-strumming, and I attempted to bridge the
hiatus by none too gracefully inquiring how things were getting along
over at Casa Grande. Lady Allie's contemplative eye, I noticed,
searched my face to see if there were any secondary significances to
that bland inquiry.

"Everything seems to be going nicely," she acknowledged. Then she
rather took the wind out of my sails by adding: "But I really came
over to see if you wouldn't dine wit