The chaperon, Mrs. Livingston, standing near the door, is a widow and forty-five, though still comely to look upon, and the girl behind her is interesting in her own peculiar style, being piquant and pretty. Though it is late in September the weather is still quite warm, and dressed in the light summer costumes of 1871, which gave as charming glimpses of white necks and dazzling arms as those of to-day, either lady would attract the eyes of men: but the glorious beauty of Erma Travenion still holds the Westerner's gaze. Eyes draw eyes, and the young lady returns his glance for a second. Then Mrs. Livingston speaks: "Why, Chauncey," she says, "I thought you were going to bring Mr. Southmead." "And I have brought his client," laughs Ferdie. "Mr. Southmead will be here in a minute. He was engaged with Captain Lawrence and could not leave him. So I took the liberty and persuaded Captain Lawrence to join us also. But permit me," and he presents his companion in due form to the hostess of the evening. While Harry is making his bow, Mr. Southmead enters. "Ah, Chauncey," he says laughingly, "you have made the introduction, I see. But still, Mrs. Livingston, I think I can give you some information about Captain Lawrence which Ferdinand does not possess. He is a _rara avis_. He has not opened his mouth to a beautiful woman for eight months." "Excuse me," interposes Lawrence gallantly. "That was before I had spoken to Mrs. Livingston." This happy shot makes the widow his friend at once. She says: "Not spoken to a beautiful woman for eight months! Surely there could be no beautiful women about," and her eyes emphasize her words as she looks with admiration on the athletic symmetry the young Western man displays under his broadcloth evening dress. "Not spoken to a beautiful woman for eight months!" This is an astonished echo from the two young ladies. "Yes," replies Southmead laughing. "He has been in southern Utah. He only stopped over night in Salt Lake City on his trip to New York; he comes from the wilds of the Rocky Mountains." "The Rocky Mountains?" cries Erma, whose eyes seem to take sudden interest at the locality mentioned. A moment after, Mrs. Livingston hastily presents the Western engineer. "Miss Amory--Miss Travenion: Captain Lawrence." "Not heard the voice of beauty for eight months? That is severe for a military man, Captain Lawrence," laughs Miss Amory, her eyes growing bright, for she is in the habit of going to West Point, to graduating exercises, and loving cadets and brass buttons generally and awfully. "I was once Captain of an Iowa battery," answers Harry; "for some years after that I was a civil engineer on the Union Pacific Railway, and for the last three I have been a mining engineer in Utah."