"I hope so, but she ought to take it easy the rest of her days. She's done work enough--and I'm kind o' discouraged myself." Slowly she recovered her self-possession. She drank her tea in abstracted silence, and at last she said: "I'm going out there, Cassie; you'll have to look after things. I'll get some of the boys to 'tend the office." "You're not going alone?" "No, Mart Haney is going to drive me." "Oh!" There was a look of surprise and consternation in the face of the young wife, but she only asked, "You'll be back to-night?" "Yes, if mother is no worse." Haney had the smartest "rig" in town waiting for her as she came out, but as he looked at her white dress and pretty hat of flowers and tulle he apologized for its shortcomings--"'Tis lined with cream-colored satin it _should_ be." She colored a little at this, but quickly replied: "Blarney. Anybody'd know you were an Irishman." "I am, and proud of it." "I want to take the doctor out to see mother." "Not in this rig," he protested. She smiled. "Why not? No, but I want to go round to his office and leave a call." "I'll go round the world fer you," he replied. The air was deliciously cool and fragrant now that the sun was sinking, and the town was astir with people. It was the social hour when the heat and toil of the day were over, and all had leisure to turn wondering eyes upon Haney and his companion. The girl felt her position keenly. She was aware that a single appearance of this kind was equivalent to an engagement in the minds of her acquaintances, but as she shyly glanced at her lover's handsome face, and watched his powerful and skilled hands upon the reins, her pride in him grew. She acknowledged his kindness, and was tired and ready to lean upon his strength. "When did your mother quit?" he asked, after they had left the town behind. "Sunday night. You see, we had a big rush all day, and on top of that, about twelve o'clock, an alarm of fire next door. So she got no sleep. Monday morning she didn't get up, Tuesday she dressed but was too miserable to work, so finally I just packed her off to the ranch." "That was right--only you should have sent for me." She was silent, and her heart began to beat with a knowledge of the demand he was about to make. She felt weak and unprotected here--in the office they were on more equal terms--but she enjoyed in a subconscious way the swift rush of the horses, the splendor of the sunset, and the quiet authority in his voice--even as she lifted eyes to the mesa towards which they were driving he began to speak.