“I am just wild to show him how we American girls can ride,” said Ethel, enthusiastically. “Would n’t it be great sport, daddy, if Doctor Lenox Avondale, by mistake, should try to ride one of our bucking broncos? Oh, it would be glorious!” she laughed. “I believe it would test his horsemanship most thoroughly,” replied Mr. Horton, much amused. “Ethel,” said her mother, chidingly, “you must not think of playing any jokes on Doctor Lenox Avondale.” Then, addressing Hugh, she continued, “He is quite a distinguished surgeon, late of the English army. He has been traveling in America for over a year. All last winter he was in the Southern States. He belongs to one of the oldest families in England.” “He is so intellectual,” observed Mrs. Osborn, “and just blasi enough to be interesting. He does not pretend to possess great goodness or innocence, but I daresay he is quite as good as many who do.” As Mrs. Osborn made this remark she cast a furtive glance at Hugh; and he, remembering their conversation during the drive, colored perceptibly. After dinner they returned to the veranda, where Hugh found himself near Ethel. “Are you a good horseman, Mr. Stanton?” she asked. “I can’t say that I am a good horseman,” said Hugh, emphasizing the word “good,” “though I am very fond of riding.” “It seems so strange that one like yourself should come away out here on the frontier to live,” said the girl, as her eyes rested inquiringly on his face. “My coming here,” replied Hugh, “happened in a most natural way. I do not see anything strange about it. Thousands of people are immigrating to the West.” “Yes, but you had to leave your home and your people,” said she. “Almost every one does that when he comes to a new country,” replied Hugh, “but, unfortunately, I had no people to leave.” “No people!” exclaimed Ethel. “Why, how odd! You must have an interesting history.” “On the contrary,” replied Hugh, “it is a very uninteresting one. I am an only child. My father lost his life in the war, and my mother died while I was yet very young—so there you have my genealogy in a nutshell.” “And have you traveled abroad?” “No, I have not as yet treated myself to that pleasure. I have been somewhat of a student. My earlier years were spent with books. After leaving college I engaged in business, and have really had no time for travel.” “Oh, then you are a brain-worker,” said Ethel, smiling. “I like brain-workers,” and her eyes wandered afar down the valley. She was thinking of Jack Redfield. Hugh interpreted her words as a compliment, and he marveled at the mysteries of women. He was sure that Dr. Lenox Avondale was unworthy of this beautiful girl. He mentally determined to question Mrs. Osborn in regard to Ethel’s betrothal on their way home that evening. “Come often and without formality,” was the pressing invitation extended to Hugh as he prepared to go. “Just drop in at any time,” said John Horton, “and you will always find a welcome.”