Seated on this, she tells him her story, he interrupting her now and then to ask pertinent questions, most of them in regard to the actions of Kruger. And getting answers that he doesn't like, he seems to grow more despondent the more her words indicate the Mormon bishop has taken interest in her movements. But as she tells about Harry Lawrence, and the trouble the injunction on his mine has brought upon the young man, the old man's eyes gleam and he chuckles: "Yes, I rather think I have put that bantam into a business hole he won't get out of!" He seems so happy and so triumphant over this affair, that Erma, his daughter as she is, almost hates him. This brings her to her contribution to Harry's bank account, to defeat Bishop Tranyon of Salt Lake and Zion's Co-operative Mining Institution, and telling this with some embarrassment and pauses and blushes, she notes her father's face grow long and his features puzzled. Then, as she describes her visit to the Twenty-fifth Ward meeting, and Oliver Livingston's treatment of her after his discovery that she is the daughter of a polygamist, he mutters sadly: "To see you married to Livingston--a man of your own rank and place in New York society--has been the hope of my old age!" Here the girl astonishes him. She answers: "Had you been the greatest saint this earth has ever seen, Oliver Livingston would never have had me for his wife. Besides"--and she laughs airily--"I could have Mr. Ollie back at my side in a week. He loves my million well enough to take me for it." "Then bring him back!" "Never!" "Never! Why not?" This last almost savagely. "Because _I_ will not marry _him_!" There is an enthusiasm and determination in the girl's manner that makes this gentleman--who is well accustomed to reading men, and perhaps has had some experience, in his plural marriages, of women--suddenly cry out: "No, you will not wed Livingston because you love another!" "Who is that?" says the girl, attempting a laugh, but her face becoming very red in the dim light of flickering tallow and kerosene oil. "Harry Lawrence, who hates Bishop Tranyon of Salt Lake so much that I hardly think he will marry the daughter of Ralph Travenion of New York!" returns her father easily. But Erma does not answer this. She has turned away to the window, and is looking down the hill and over the alkaline plains, and her blushes are only seen by a jack-rabbit who peers at her from behind a sage bush. Then she faces her father and cries: "No matter what comes, you shall do justice to Harry Lawrence! You shall withdraw your claim to his property!" "Oh ho!" laughs the Mormon. "Give up what I am on the point of winning? Bishop Tranyon of Salt Lake will never do that. That is not his style."