"It must be nice to feel that way toward someone," mused the lady, from the grass. "She thinks everything of you, too. It seems natural for some people to take a kindly, loving interest in almost everyone. There are only two people I have ever known toward whom I have felt in anything approaching that manner. Hope and Larry O'Hara. I have often fancied they would make an ideal couple." Jim McCullen shook his head doubtfully, but Mrs. Van Rensselaer, unnoticing, continued: "And even Larry deserted the ranch. He's been gone for two weeks. It's about time I came to look everyone up!" She pinned back the fluffy hair from her face, adjusted her hat, unclasped a tiny mirror and powder puff from her wrist, and carefully dusted every portion of her pretty face.
McCullen, who had witnessed the operation several times before along the road that day, ceased to stare in wonderment, and very politely looked across the rolling hills in the opposite direction. It never occurred to Clarice Van Rensselaer that anyone could have found amusement in the proceedings. In fact, she never thought of it at all, but dabbed the powder puff quite mechanically from force of habit.
After laughing to himself and giving her time enough to complete her toilet, he led her horse up, remarking:
"We'd better be movin', er like enough we won't get there till after dark."
Mrs. Van Rensselaer sighed, regained her feet, and suffered herself to be helped to the saddle.
"I reckon you won't find O'Hara up there," remarked Jim McCullen some time later. "Two evenings ago he rode over on Fox Creek, there on the reservation, where them soldiers are out practicin'. Lieutenant Harvey come over to camp an' he rode back with him, bein's he was acquainted. It ain't more'n eight mile from camp. Mebby you could ride over there if you wanted." This suggestion was offered with the faintest smile beneath his gray mustache. "It's a mighty fine chance to see them soldiers drillin' 'round the hills, playin' at sham battles and the like."
"It would probably be a pleasing sight to see them," replied Clarice Van Rensselaer, "but I prefer an easy chair with plenty of cushions instead."
"I don't like to discourage you, but I don't reckon you'll find many cushions where you're goin'," said old Jim.
"How much farther is it?" demanded the lady.
"Oh, not very fur, 'bout three mile, er a little further," replied her companion; thereupon Mrs. Van Rensselaer rode on for some time in scornful, silent resignation.