"I ain't scar't o' work," she retorted valiantly, "but----"
"It's settled, then," said Ajax, in his masterful way. "If you'll get down, I'll unhitch the mule and put him in the barn. My brother will show you the house."
She descended, protesting, but we could not catch the words that fell from her lips.
"You must tell us your name," said Ajax
"It's Gloriana," she faltered.
"Gloriana? Gloriana--what?"
"Jes--Gloriana."
* * * * *
"She is a type," said Ajax, a few days later.
"A type of what?"