“But,” persisted Spindler, “you see, they’re strangers to me; I don’t know ’em, and I do you.  You’d make it easy for ’em,—­and for me,—­don’t you see?  Kinder introduce ’em,—­don’t you know?  A woman of your gin’ral experience would smooth down all them little difficulties,” continued Spindler, with a vague recollection of the Kansas story, “and put everybody on velvet.  Don’t say ‘No,’ Mrs. Price!  I’m just kalkilatin’ on you.”

Sincerity and persistency in a man goes a great way with even the best of women.  Mrs. Price, who had at first received Spindler’s request as an amusing originality, now began to incline secretly towards it.  And, of course, began to suggest objections.

“I’m afraid it won’t do,” she said thoughtfully, awakening to the fact that it would do and could be done.  “You see, I’ve promised to spend Christmas at Sacramento with my nieces from Baltimore.  And then there’s Mrs. Saltover and my sister to consult.”

But here Spindler’s simple face showed such signs of distress that the widow declared she would “think it over,”—­a process which the sanguine Spindler seemed to consider so nearly akin to talking it over that Mrs. Price began to believe it herself, as he hopefully departed.

She “thought it over” sufficiently to go to Sacramento and excuse herself to her nieces.  But here she permitted herself to “talk it over,” to the infinite delight of those Baltimore girls, who thought this extravaganza of Spindler’s “so Californian and eccentric!” So that it was not strange that presently the news came back to Rough and Ready, and his old associates learned for the first time that he had never seen his relatives, and that they would be doubly strangers.  This did not increase his popularity; neither, I grieve to say, did the intelligence that his relatives were probably poor, and that the Reverend Mr. Saltover had approved of his course, and had likened it to the rich man’s feast, to which the halt and blind were invited.  Indeed, the allusion was supposed to add hypocrisy and a bid for popularity to Spindler’s defection, for it was argued that he might have feasted “Wall-eyed Joe” or “Tangle-foot Billy,”—­who had once been “chawed” by a bear while prospecting,—­if he had been sincere.  Howbeit, Spindler’s faith was oblivious to these criticisms, in his joy at Mr. Saltover’s adhesion to his plans and the loan of Mrs. Price as a hostess.  In fact, he proposed to her that the invitation should also convey that information in the expression, “by the kind permission of the Rev. Mr. Saltover,” as a guarantee of good faith, but the widow would have none of it.  The invitations were duly written and dispatched.

“Suppose,” suggested Spindler, with a sudden lugubrious apprehension,—­“suppose they shouldn’t come?”

“Have no fear of that,” said Mrs. Price, with a frank laugh.

“Or ef they was dead,” continued Spindler.

“They couldn’t all be dead,” said the widow cheerfully.