She dismounted with hearty explanations of how she had left her
"round-up" and ridden over to visit, having heard from the Tuttle
person that we were here. Cousin Egbert took her horse and she entered
the hut, where to my utter amazement she at once did a feminine thing.
Though from her garb one at a little distance might have thought her a
man, a portly, florid, carelessly attired man, she made at once for
the wrinkled mirror where, after anxiously scanning her burned face
for an instant, she produced powder and puff from a pocket of her
shirt and daintily powdered her generous blob of a nose. Having
achieved this to her apparent satisfaction, she unrolled a bundle she
had carried at her saddle and donned a riding skirt, buttoning it
about the waist and smoothing down its folds--before I could retire.
"There, now," she boomed, as if some satisfying finality had been
brought about. Such was the Mixer. That sort of thing would never do
with us, and yet I suddenly saw that she, like Cousin Egbert, was
strangely commendable and worthy. I mean to say, I no longer felt it
was my part to set her right in any of the social niceties. Some
curious change had come upon me. I knew then that I should no longer
resist America.
CHAPTER TWELVE
With a curious friendly glow upon me I set about helping Cousin Egbert
in the preparation of our evening meal, a work from which, owing to
the number and apparent difficulty of my suggestions, he presently
withdrew, leaving me in entire charge.
Pages:
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244