It was a glorious September morning and the Colonel was ready for his morning ride. There was a shimmer of heat over the landscape and a promise of thunder in the air. A breathless stillness had fallen upon all things, and over the fields and the distant woods the September haze hung like a thin blue veil.
It had been a successful season on the ranch. The fruit crops had been abundant and through the agency of the newly organised Fruit Growers’ Association had been fairly well marketed. The harvest had been quite up to the average, and within a day or two would be safely stacked or under cover.
The Colonel had abundant reason for satisfaction with life, and should have worn a much happier face. His wife, reading his face like an open page, broke forth into protest.
“I don’t see why you should go around looking like that,” she said impatiently.
“Looking like what?” exclaimed the Colonel, his face becoming at once a perfect picture of radiant cheer.
“Why doesn’t somebody do something about it?” she asked petulantly.
“What can any one do? Anyway, what are you talking about, my dear?” inquired her husband, illogically.
“You know quite well. You are worrying yourself to no end.”
“Worrying myself? Nonsense! And what about you?”
“The whole thing is about as bad as it could be. The man is doing nothing to his place. Buildings, fences, corrals, everything is going to wreck and ruin. And he hasn’t done a thing all this summer.”