as
arranging her hair before the mirror, "I had planned to have Van Cromer
take you in to dinner, but at the last moment he couldn't come, and
Stella Blake couldn't come either. I had a Mr. Casey Dunne for her. And
so, if you don't mind----"

"Of course not," said Clyde. "But post me a little, Kitty. What has Mr.
Casey Dunne done, or what is he going to do? What does one talk about
to him?"

"Crops," replied Mrs. Wade.

Clyde sighed resignedly. "My dear, I don't mind for once, but I never
could understand the market. May wheat, September options, war and
rumours of wars, and the effect on prices of the weather sent by divine
Providence, probabilities of a large or short crop--these be sealed
mysteries to me."

"But Mr. Dunne isn't a broker," said Mrs. Wade. "He's a farmer."

"A--a _farmer_!" Clyde repeated, in much the same tone she would have
used if her hostess had informed her that she was to be paired with a
Zulu.

Mrs. Wade laughed. "Not the 'Old Homestead' kind, dear. It's the fault
of my Eastern bringing up. I should have said a 'rancher.' He comes
from somewhere near the Rockies, and I believe he grows wheat and hay
and cattle and--oh, whatever else ranchers grow."

"Oh!" said Clyde doubtfully. "And is he excessively Western? Does he
exude the 'God's-own-country' and 'land-of-opportunity' line of
conversation? Will he try to sell me land? And how old is he?"

"I have never seen him," Mrs. Wade replied. "He did Harrison a good
turn once--gave him some information about lands or something. Harry
assures me that he doesn't wear big revolvers or spurs, or eat with his
knife--in fact, he is quite presentable. But if you like I'll give you
some one else."

"Oh, no," said Clyde. "Mr. Dunne will do very well. I think I shall
prefer him to a broker."

"So good of you, dear," smiled Kitty Wade. "Shall we go down? I think
the others will be arriving."

Clyde endeavoured to construct an advance portrait of Casey Dunne, but
without much success. Unconsciously she was influenced by the
characters of alleged Western drama, as flamboyant and nearly as
accurate as the Southerners of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." She was genuinely
surprised when she found him to be a rather good-looking young man in
irreproachable evening clothes.

At that moment dinner was announced. He offered his arm without
hesitation. Clyde intercepted a glance from her hostess, brimming with
laughter. She laughed back with relief. She had rather dre