"Do you know, Din," he began, "those two girls are only half educated? Yes sir, gastronomically, they are positively illiterate, and it's a shame! W'y, they don't know hot biscuits and molasses. They don't know buttermilk. They don't know yams. Nor paw-paws, nor persimmons. They don't even know watermelon. Now isn't France a backward place?" "Don't, Shanks!" Driscoll begged. "You'll have me heading for Missouri in a minute. You didn't, uh, mention peach cobbler?" "_And_ peach cobbler, big as an acre covered with snow. And just think, it's roastin' ea'ah time up there now, _now_!" How Daniel's voice did mellow under a tender sentiment! "And to think," he went on, "of the marchioness living on in such ignorance! It's a thing that's just got to be remedied, Jack." "Then suppose you take her to Missouri," growled his friend, "and let me alone." "_I_ take _her_? Oh come now, Din, I see I've got to tell you something which is--" The Troubadour's accents grew low and fond, and the other man respected them, with something between a smile and a sigh for his own case. "Which is--well, nobody's noticed it, but the fact is that Buh'the, that Miss Buh'the----" "Dan," interrupted Driscoll severely, "you're not going to tell me any secret. You mean that you weren't mistaken when you mistook her for a queen." "That--that's it!" ejaculated Daniel. "Of coh'se," he added soothingly, "the other one is a--a mighty nice girl, but----" "Oh, _is_ she? But Miss Burt is _the_ one you want to take to Missouri? Well Dan, why don't you?" "Because," was the doleful reply, "those two are just like orphan sisters together, and--well, she won't desert. She _is_ a queen, by God, sir! Miss Jacqueline might make her, but I haven't got the heart to ask it. Now, uh, if--if you would just bring along the other one?" So, here was the goal of all of Daniel's manoeuvering! Driscoll cast a leg over the pommel of his saddle, and faced Boone squarely. "Shanks," he demanded with tense vehemence, "do you suppose I need your woes for a prod? Don't you know how much--Lord A'mighty, how much!--I'd like to oblige you? But--she won't let me--even speak. There's, there's something the matter." Boone's lank jaw fell. "What, I wonder?" "And don't I wonder too?" Driscoll muttered savagely. "But it's _something_." From which moment until the end of the journey, and afterward, there were two men who pondered on what could be the trouble with Jacqueline. But while one pondered gloomily and fiercely and with a semi-comic grin under the lash, the other let perplexity delve and ferret into the mystery. For Mr. Boone had grown aware that an enormous heap of happiness for four depended on himself alone. CHAPTER XXIV THE JOURNALISTIC SAGACITY OF A DANIEL "Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears To-day of past Regret and future Fears." _--Omar._