“She’s being terrible careful about _her_ associates,” she presently went on, with a most irritating effect of addressing only herself; “nothing at all but just dukes and earls and lords day in and day out!” Too often when the woman seems to wish it she contrives to get me in motion, as the American saying is. “And it is deeply to be regretted,” I replied with dignity, “that other persons must say less of themselves if put to it.” Well she knew what I meant. Despite my previous clear warning, she had more than once accepted small gifts from the cattle-persons, Hank and Buck, and had even been seen brazenly in public with them at a cinema palace. One of a more suspicious nature than I might have guessed that she conducted herself thus for the specific purpose of enraging me, but I am glad to say that no nature could be more free than mine from vulgar jealousy, and I spoke now from the mere wish that she should more carefully guard her reputation. As before, she exhibited a surprising meekness under this rebuke, though I uneasily wondered if there might not be guile beneath it. “Can I help it,” she asked, “if they like to show me attentions? I guess I’m a free woman.” She lifted her head to observe a glass she had polished. Her eyes were curiously lighted. She had this way of embarrassing me. And invariably, moreover, she aroused all that is evil in my nature against the two cattle-persons, especially the Buck one, actually on another occasion professing admiration for “his wavy chestnut hair!” I saw now that I could not trust myself to speak of the fellow. I took up another matter. “That baby of yours is too horribly fat,” I said suddenly. I had long meant to put this to her. “It’s too fat. It eats too much!” To my amazement the creature was transformed into a vixen. “It--it! Too fat! You call my boy ‘it’ and say he’s too fat! Don’t you dare! What does a creature like you know of babies? Why, you wouldn’t even know----” But the thing was too painful. Let her angry words be forgotten. Suffice to say, she permitted herself to cry out things that might have given grave offence to one less certain of himself than I. Rather chilled I admit I was by her frenzied outburst. I was shrewd enough to see instantly that anything in the nature of a criticism of her offspring must be led up to, rather; perhaps couched in less direct phrases than I had chosen. Fearful I was that she would burst into another torrent of rage, but to my amazement she all at once smiled. “What a fool I am!” she exclaimed. “Kidding me, were you? Trying to make me mad about the baby. Well, I’ll give you good. You did it. Yes, sir, I never would have thought you had a kidding streak in you--old glum-face!” “Little you know me,” I retorted, and quickly withdrew, for I was then more embarrassed than ever, and, besides, there were other and graver matters forward to depress and occupy me.