"I'm working for Horne," said Lafe cheerfully. "Did you think I couldn't tell a two-year-old from a three, Floyd? Those boys tried to run a bunch by me." Mrs. Tracey drove over to the Floyd headquarters twice, on matters relating to a recipe for a cake and certain patterns, and then asked her friend and Mr. Johnson to dinner. She invited Floyd, too, but it was done so perfunctorily that Sally felt the stab and was furious. However, she went. The widow was as sleek as a kitten and wore such a secretive air that Mrs. Floyd had much ado to keep her temper during the meal. Afterward, Mrs. Tracey excused herself for a few minutes on some pretext and left them alone in the sitting-room. When she had to pass through on her way upstairs, she hurried as though intruding, and said: "Oh, I beg your pardon!" "The cat!" Mrs. Floyd cried, gritting her teeth. "There wasn't no call for her to say that?" "Of course there wasn't, booby. That doesn't make it any better. It makes it worse." Two days later: "Now guess what?" "I done quit guessing," Johnson answered. "That Tracey woman tried to tell me this morning that my Tom was too friendly with one of those Baptismo girls." "Pshaw!" said Lafe. "Pshaw! What does she want to go and tell them lies for? What good does it do?" "You don't see?" "I reckon I'm dull." "Oh, you great baby!" Mrs. Floyd gurgled delightedly. This display of malice disturbed Lafe greatly. Such weapons were beyond his knowledge and capacity, and he felt hotly uncomfortable when Sally intimated that they might expect Mrs. Tracey to be talking of them next--if, indeed, she had not done so already. She was for going to Rowdy Canon without delay to bestow a tongue-lashing on the widow. "What's the use?" the cowboy said. "Her talk can't hurt nobody. They all know you." "Some people will believe her." "Some people will do anything. Never bother with poor trash, Sally. It don't matter what that kind thinks. Leave her be. What can you expect from a pig but a grunt?" That was no way to speak of a lady, but Mrs. Floyd jumped from her chair and cried "Goody!", greatly consoled. Just before the evening meal, she put on a pink dress for which Lafe had professed admiration, and parted her hair in the middle. Had there been a woman within seven miles, she would not have done this, but Lafe liked it that way. So also did her husband, for that matter. "As if I'd get jealous of Tom!" she sniffed. "Huh! you won't get Lafe that way, my lady." I have said that they rode together every day. Sometimes Floyd watched the two meditatively. His instructions were being carried out--no doubt of that--and Johnson was good-natured. But the boss was a silent man and opposed no objection. As for Sally, if she gave it a thought at all, she probably found justification in a dozen reasons a woman would appreciate, which are beyond male ken.