This, according to our fraternal code, was rank treachery, yet I felt no traitor. Ajax obeyed my summons, and, sauntering across the sun- baked yard, lifted his hat to the visitor. She bowed politely, and blinked, with short-sighted eyes, at my brother's overalls and tattered canvas shirt. I have seen Ajax, in Piccadilly, glorious in a frock-coat and varnished boots. I have seen him, as Gloriana saw him for the first time, in rags that might provoke the scorn of Lazarus. With the thermometer at a hundred in the shade, custom curtseys to convenience. Ajax boasted with reason that the loosening of a single safety-pin left him in condition for a plunge into the pool at the foot of the corral. "I hope you're well, lord," said the little woman; "an' if ye ain't, why--what I've got here'll do ye more good than a doctor. I reckon ye hev a mother, an' naterally she thinks the world of ye. Well, sir, I bring ye a golden word from her very lips. Jest listen to this. I ain't much on the elocute, but I'm goin' ter do my best." We listened patiently as she declaimed half a page of wretched prose. Her voice rose and fell in a sing-song cadence, but certain modulations of tone lent charm to the absurd words. When she finished her eyes were full of tears. "That is very nice indeed," said Ajax softly. "I should like to buy your book." Her hands trembled. "I sell it in cloth at--one dollar; in sheep at--one, six bits; in reel moroccy, with gold toolin' at--two an' a half." "We must certainly secure a copy in gold and morocco." Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Two copies," I suggested rashly: "one for you, Ajax; one for me." "Ye kin take yer copy in cloth," said the little woman, compassionately, "sein' as ye're only workin' for yer board." "In gold and morocco," I replied firmly. "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world. A golden word from mother cannot be fittingly bound in fustian." "Ye must hev had awful nice mothers, both of ye," she said simply. "Do I sell many books? No, sir. Farmer-folks in Californy ain't got the money ter spend in readin' matter. They're in big luck these times if they kin pay the interest on their mortgages. With wheat at eighty cents a cental, an' barley not wuth the haulin', it seems most an impertinence to ask grangers ter buy books." "Do you make twenty dollars a month at the business?" She shook her head sorrowfully. "This is September," said Ajax, "and within six weeks the rains will begin. What will you do then?" She regarded him wistfully, but made no reply. "Your mule," continued Ajax, "is about played out--poor beast. Will you stay here this winter, and keep house for us? I daresay you cook very nicely; and next spring, if you feel like it, you can start out bookselling again." "My cookin' is sech as white folks kin eat, but----" "We will pay you twenty dollars a month." "The wages air more'n enough, but----" "And the work will be light."