self-sacrifice for others. Och, ye spalpeen!" continued
Father Rogan, raising his finger in kindly anger at Lorison.
"What for, I wonder, could she be after making a fool
of hersilf, and shamin' her swate soul with lies, for the
like of you!"
"Sir," said Lorison, trembling, "say what you please
of me. Doubt it as you must, I will yet prove my gratitude
to you, and my
devotion to her. But let me speak to her
once now, let me kneel for just one moment at her feet,
and -- "
"Tut, tut!" said the
priest. "How many acts of a
love drama do you think an old bookworm like me capable
of witnessing? Besides, what kind of figures do we cut,
spying upon the mysteries of
midnight millinery! Go
to meet your wife to-morrow, as she ordered you, and obey
her
thereafter, and maybe some time I shall get
forgive-
ness for the part I have played in this night's work. Off
wid yez down the shtairs, now! 'Tis late, and an ould
man like me should be takin' his rest."
MADAME BO-PEEP, OF THE RANCHES
"AUNT ELLEN," said Octavia,
cheerfully, as she threw
her black kid gloves carefully at the
dignified Persian cat
on the window-seat, "I'm a pauper."
"You are so
extreme in your statements, Octavia,
dear," said Aunt Ellen,
mildly, looking up from her paper.
"If you find yourself
temporarily in need of some small
change for bonbons, you will find my purse in the drawer
of the
writing desk."
Octavia Beaupree removed her hat and seated herself
on a footstool near her aunt's chair, clasping her hands
about her knees. Her slim and
flexible figure, clad in a
modish
mourningcostume, accommodated itself easily
and
gracefully to the
trying position. Her bright and
youthful face, with its pair of sparkling, life-enamoured
eyes, tried to
compose itself to the
seriousness that the
occasion seemed to demand.
"You good auntie, it isn't a case of bonbons; it is abject,
staring, unpicturesque
poverty, with ready-made clothes,
gasolined gloves, and probably one o'clock dinners all
waiting with the
traditional wolf at the door. I've just
come from my
lawyer, auntie, and, 'Please, ma'am, I
ain't got nothink 't all. Flowers, lady? Buttonhole,
gentleman? Pencils, sir, three for five, to help a poor
widow?' Do I do it
nicely, auntie, or, as a bread-winner
accomplishment, were my lessons in elocution entirely
wasted?"
"Do be serious, my dear," said Aunt Ellen, letting her
paper fall to the floor, "long enough to tell me what you
mean. Colonel Beaupree's
estate -- "
"Colonel Beaupree's
estate," interrupted Octavia,
emphasizing her words with
appropriatedramatic ges-
tures, "is of Spanish castellar
architecture. Colonel
Beaupree's resources are -- wind. Colonel Beaupree's
stocks are -- water. Colonel Beaupree's
income is --
all in. The statement lacks the legal technicalities to
which I have been listening for an hour, but that is what
it means when translated."
"Octavia!" Aunt Ellen was now visibly possessed by
consternation. "I can hardly believe it. And it was the
impression that he was worth a million. And the De
Peysters themselves introduced him!"
Octavia rippled out a laugh, and then became properly
grave.
"De mortuis nil, auntie -- not even the rest of it. The
dear old
colonel -- what a gold brick he was, after all!
I paid for my
bargain fairly -- I'm all here, am I not?
-- items: eyes, fingers, toes, youth, old family, unques-
tionable position in society as called for in the contract
no wild-cat stock here." Octavia picked up the
morning paper from the floor. "But I'm not going to
'squeal' -- isn't that what they call it when you rail at
Fortune because you've, lost the game?" She turned
the pages of the paper
calmly. "'Stock market' -- no
use for that. 'Society's doings' -- that's done. Here is
my page -- the wish
column. A Van Dresser could not
be said to 'want' for anything, of course. 'Chamber-
maids, cooks,
canvassers, stenographers-"
"Dear," said Aunt Ellen, with a little tremor in her
voice, "please do not talk in that way. Even if your
affairs are in so
unfortunate a condition, there is my three
thousand -- "
Octavia
sprang up lithely, and deposited a smart kiss
on the
delicate cheek of the prim little
elderly maid.
"Blessed auntie, your three thousand is just sufficient
to
insure your Hyson to be free from
willow leaves and
keep the Persian in sterilized cream. I know I'd be
welcome, but I prefer to strike bottom like Beelzebub
rather than hang around like the Peri listening to the
music from the side en
trance. I'm going to earn my own
living. There's nothing else to do. I'm a -- Oh, oh, oh!
-- I had forgotten. There's one thing saved from the
wreck. It's a corral -- no, a ranch in -- let me see --
Texas: an asset, dear old Mr. Bannister called it. How
pleased he was to show me something he could describe
as unencumbered! I've a
description of it among those
stupid papers he made me bring away with me from his
office. I'll try to find it."
Octavia found her shopping-bag, and drew from it a
long
envelope filled with typewritten documents.
"A ranch in Texas," sighed Aunt Ellen. "It sounds
to me more like a
liability than an asset. Those are the
places where the centipedes are found, and cowboys,
and fandangos."
"'The Rancho de las Sombras,'" read Octavia from
a sheet of
violentlypurple type
writing "'is
situated one
hundred and ten miles
southeast of San Antonio, and
thirty-eight miles from its nearest railroad station, Nopal,
on the I. and G. N. Ranch, consists of 7,680 acres of well-
watered land, with title conferred by State patents, and
twenty-two sections, or 14,080 acres,
partly under yearly
running lease and
partly bought under State's twenty-
year-purchase act. Eight thousand graded merino sheep,
with the necessary
equipment of horses, vehicles and
general ranch paraphernalia. Ranch-house built of
brick, with six rooms
comfortably furnished according to
the requirements of the
climate. All within a strong
barbed-wire fence.
"'The present ranch
manager seems to be competent
and
reliable, and is rapidly placing upon a paying basis
a business that, in other hands, had been allowed to suffer
from
neglect and misconduct.
"'This property was secured by Colonel Beaupree in a
deal with a Western
irrigationsyndicate, and the title
to it seems to be perfect. With careful
management and
the natural increase of land values, it ought to be made
the
foundation for a comfortable fortune for its owner.'"
When Octavia ceased
reading, Aunt Ellen uttered
something as near a sniff as her
breeding permitted.
"The prospectus," she said, with uncompromising
metropolitan
suspicion, "doesn't mention the centipedes,
or the Indians. And you never did like
mutton, Octavia.
I don't see what
advantage you can
derive from this --
desert."