"You mind your own business," Hetty cried hotly and flushed to the tips of her ears. The white, white column of her neck was always bare, for she knew its beauty full as well as did anybody else and wore her dress cut low accordingly; and Mr. Johnson had noted with consuming rage that it held the rapt gaze of the diners. Indeed, she was a strapping, fine woman. Black hair, heavy black eye-brows, blue eyes and a dazzling skin--they made an unusual combination. Hetty carried herself fearlessly erect. Her figure was full but supple, and she walked as if her body held inexhaustible reserves of strength. He said no more then, but later broke out with the stunning declaration that waiting on table was no fit job for a lady--not with a lot of lazy loafers round, especially. His proposition was that she get out of the Fashion and go to live with the Widow Brown, who was a nice, respectable woman, and would be company for her. And the sheriff would see that she got a job of some sort. Or perhaps she would like to go on a visit to Mrs. Floyd, whose husband owned the Lazy L range. He would secure her an invitation. "You're awful kind, aren't you?" she said. "You make me think of Bessie and her fellow, you do." Lafe intimated that these individuals were unknown to him, but he fain would hear more. "Why, this fellow of Bessie's--Bess worked next to me at the store--he wanted to reform her, he said--Bess was really too fly." "Well? Why shouldn't he?" "Huh! Reform her!" said Miss Ferrier. "He only wanted to keep everybody else away." "She's tough." Lafe assured himself of this again and again as he went home. "She's mighty tough; yes, sir. Else she couldn't talk that away. And them friends of hers. A city's a rotten place." Of course, he, too, asked her to go riding. She thanked him, but refused. "I'll treat you proper," he said. "You can bank on it you will. But I won't go. No, thanks." A silver heart he purchased for her, together with an enormously long chain, was returned without a syllable of explanation, although the gift was dispatched anonymously. The sheriff was much chagrined. Hetty did her task above criticism when he was at table, but all efforts to establish a friendlier footing met with rebuffs. "I'll be doggoned if you ain't nicer to these here other fellers than you are to me," said Lafe, after a fortnight of this. "Why shouldn't I be?" "Why shouldn't--? I swan I don't know." The admission was wrung from him slowly, and he appeared to be deep in thought during the remainder of the meal. His manner thenceforward took on a grave, distant politeness that Hetty found peculiarly galling. Meanwhile, the world wagged on about as usual.