snapped, and the machine was put aside somewhat impatiently, with a discontented drawing of the lines around her handsome mouth.  Then she began to “tidy” the room, putting a great many things away and bringing out a great many more, a process that was necessarily slow, owing to her falling into attitudes of minute inspection of certain articles of dress, with intervals of trying them on, and observing their effect in her mirror.  This kind of interruption also occurred while she was putting away some books that were lying about on chairs and tables, stopping midway to open their pages, becoming interested, and quite finishing one chapter, with the book held close against the window to catch the fading light of day.  The feminine reader will gather from this that Mrs. Rylands, though charming, was not facile in domestic duties.  She had just glanced at the clock, and lit the candle to again set herself to work, and thus bridge over the two hours more of waiting, when there came a tap at the door.  She opened it to Jane.

“There’s an entire stranger downstairs, ez hez got a lame hoss and wants to borry a fresh one.”

“We have none, you know,” said Mrs. Rylands, a little impatiently.

“Thet’s what I told him.  Then he wanted to know ef he could lie by here till he could get one or fix up his own hoss.”

“As you like; you know if you can manage it,” said Mrs. Rylands, a little uneasily.  “When Mr. Rylands comes you can arrange it between you.  Where is he now?”

“In the kitchen.”

“The kitchen!” echoed Mrs. Rylands.

“Yes, ma’am, I showed him into the parlor, but he kinder shivered his shoulders, and reckoned ez how he’d go inter the kitchen.  Ye see, ma’am, he was all wet, and his shiny big boots was sloppy.  But he ain’t one o’ the stuck-up kind, and he’s willin’ to make hisself cowf’ble before the kitchen stove.”

“Well, then, he don’t want me,” said Mrs. Rylands, with a relieved voice.

“Yes’m,” said Jane, apparently equally relieved.  “Only, I thought I’d just tell you.”

A few minutes later, in crossing the upper hall, Mrs. Rylands heard Jane’s voice from the kitchen raised in rustic laughter.  Had she been satirically inclined, she might have understood Jane’s willingness to relieve her mistress of the duty of entertaining the stranger; had she been philosophical, she might have considered the girl’s dreary, monotonous life at the rancho, and made allowance for her joy at this rare interruption of it.  But I fear that Mrs. Rylands was neither satirical nor philosophical, and presently, when Jane reentered, with color in her alkaline face, and light in her huckleberry eyes, and said she was going over to the cattle-sheds in the “far pasture,” to see if the hired man didn’t know of some horse that could be got for the stranger, Mrs. Rylands felt a little bitterness in the thought that the girl would have scarcely volunteered to go all that distance in the rain for her.  Yet, in a few moments she forgot all about it, and even the presence of her guest in the house, and in one of her fitful abstracted employments passed through the dining-room into the kitchen, and had opened the door with an “Oh, Jane!” before she remembered her absence.