The day came, finally, when Mr. Cone found it not only expedient but necessary to arrange a signal with the operator at the switchboard for certain contingencies. A close observer might have noticed that a preliminary "That reminds me" was invariably followed by an imperative announcement from the operator that Mr. Cone was wanted on the telephone. A haste which resembled flight frequently marked the departure of other guests when a reminiscence seemed threatening until, forsooth, the time arrived when they had only themselves for audience and their "That reminds me" became "Do you remember?" The only wonder was, to those less travelled, that The Happy Family ever had brought themselves to leave that earthly paradise in Wyoming, even for the winter. The only person whom their enthusiasm did not weary was Miss Mary Macpherson, because directly and indirectly it all redounded to the credit of her nephew, whom she now carefully called Wallace, as more befitting the dignity of a successful "Dude Wrangler" than the diminutive. Wallie's refusal to accept her offer had brought tears of disappointment to the eyes of the lonely woman, yet secretly she respected his pride and boasted to strangers of his independence. "My nephew, Wallace Macpherson--you may have heard of him? He has large interests in Wyoming. Went West without a penny, practically; too proud to accept help from any one--that's the Macpherson of it--and now, they tell me, he is one of the important men of the country." She was sometimes tempted to mention the extent of his holdings, and put the acreage well up into the thousands, but since Miss Macpherson was a truthful woman with a sensitive conscience, she contented herself with declaring, merely: "My nephew, Wallace Macpherson, has a large ranch, oh, a very large place--several days' ride around it." He was all she had, and blood is far thicker than water. She was hungry for a sight of him, and every day increased her yearning. While letters from him now arrived regularly, he said nothing in any of them of coming to Florida. His extensive interests, she presumed, detained him, and he was too good a business man to neglect affairs that needed him. She had promised to go to him next summer, but next summer was a long way off and there were times when she was strongly tempted to make the journey in winter in spite of the northern blizzards of which, while fanning themselves, they read with gusto. A blizzard was raging at present, according to the paper from which Mr. Appel was reading the headlines aloud to the group on the veranda. All trains were stalled west of the Mississippi and there was three feet of snow on the level in Denver. "That reminds me----" Only too well Mr. Cone knew what Mr. Budlong's remark portended. The hotel proprietor was having an interesting conversation with Mrs. Appel upon the relative merits of moth-preventatives, but he arose abruptly. Mr. Budlong squared away again.