the word "pioneer"
suddenly came to him, and he looked up and down with a keenness of
interest that was almost like a reviving memory. This beyond question
was a remnant of the old thing, and here, no doubt, the
great-grandfather whose first name he had forgotten, had been a familiar
sight; his fortune and enterprise had helped to lay the very foundations
of this landmark of a wild and stirring time.----Then they rode past a
square park high on a terrace, walled up with stone most modernly, the
green shaded with pines and palms, acacia and oaks; and the dream
passed. At the same moment he became aware that his partner was talking.

"Rosewater is the financial and trading centre of an immense farming
district. There are four banks, as solid as the best in the world. Three
are as old as American California. The farmers come in daily for feed
and supplies, the chicken-ranchers with their produce for the San
Francisco buyers, and eggs for the great hatcheries. Many, like myself,
find the last less trouble and expense than bothering with incubators.
Something like four thousand dollars change hands daily in Rosewater,
and it has less than five thousand inhabitants."

Having parted with her information she relapsed into silence, and, the
town lying behind them, he transferred his attention to her. She looked
severe, remote again, and he wondered if she would grow quite hard and
business-like in time. In the hotel office as he paid his bill he had
overheard one man say to another that she was "as good as the best, and
no man could get ahead of her." In this sexless get-up and with her
features set she looked hardly a woman. She certainly had capacities for
good-fellowship, and yesterday she had been almost tender. He had just
decided that he would as soon marry a portrait of George Washington,
when, in response to a light call behind them, Isabel wheeled about with
the pink in her cheeks and eyes wide with pleasure. She galloped back to
an approaching buggy, in which there was an extremely pretty
golden-haired young woman, and as she and Isabel simultaneously alighted
and flew into each other's arms, Gwynne also descended, prepared to
raise his hat when his existence was recognized. For some moments the
girls talked a rapid duet, then Isabel turned suddenly and beckoned.

"This is my oldest friend, Anabel--Mrs. Tom Colton," she said,
apologetically. "She only returned last night--just caught sight of us,
and followed."

Gw