He liked Mrs. Saulisbury at once, though naturally prejudiced against her. She had evidently been a very handsome woman, but some concealed pain had made her face thin and drawn, and one corner of her mouth was set in a slight fold as if by a touch of paralysis. Her profile was still very beautiful, and her voice was that of a highly cultivated American. She seemed to be interested in Arthur, and asked him a great many questions, and all her questions were intelligent. Saulisbury amused himself by joking the dainty girl, whom he called Edith. "This is the cow that gives the cream, ye know; and this one is the buttermilk cow," he said, as they stood looking in at the barn door. Edith tipped her eager little face up at him: "Really?" The rest laughed again. "Which is the ice-cream cow?" the young girl asked, to let them know that she was not to be fooled with. Saulisbury appealed to the Major. "Majah, what have you done with our ice-cream cow?" "She went dry during the winter," said the Major; "no demand on her. 'Supply regulated by the demand,' you know." They drifted on into the horse barn. "We're in Ramsey's domain now," said the Major, looking at Arthur, who stood with his hand on the hip of one of the big gray horses. Edith turned and perceived Arthur for the first time. A slight shock went through her sensitive nature, as if some faint prophecy of great storms came to her in the widening gaze of his dark eyes. "Oh, do you drive the horses?" she asked quickly. "Yes, for the present; I am the plowman," he said, in the wish to let her know he was not a common hand. "I hope to be promoted." Her eyes rested a moment longer on his sturdy figure and his beautifully bronzed skin, then she turned to her companions. After they had driven away, Arthur finished his work in silence; he could hardly bring himself to speak to the people at the supper table, his mind was in such tumult. He went up into his little room, drew a chair to the window facing the glorious mountains, and sat there until the ingulfing gloom of rising night climbed to the glittering crown of white soaring a mile above the lights of the city; but he did not really see the mountains; his eyes only turned toward them as a cat faces the light of a hearth. It helped him to think, somehow. He was naturally keen, sensitive, and impressionable; his mind worked quickly, for he had read a great deal and held his reading at command. His thought concerned itself first of all with the attitude these people assumed toward him. It was perfectly evident that they regarded him as a creature of inferior sort. He was their servant. It made him turn hot to think how terribly this contrasted with the flamboyant phraseology of his graduating oration. If the boys knew that he was a common hand on a ranch, and treated like a butler! He came back for relief to the face of the girl, the girl who looked at him differently somehow.