The Little Lady of the Big House

Forrest explained, the g

Ernestine, that's one of Paula's sisters, is going to wal

, the vision of the rounded and delicate white of her against the dark wet background of the swimming stallion. And all the afternoon, looking over prize Merinos and Berkshire gilts, continually that vision burned up under his eyelids. Even at four,

as gowned for dinner, was not surprised to find no man similarly accoutered. Nor had he made the

mpatiently waited the appearance of the woman who had worried his eyes since noon. He was prepared for all manner of disappointment. Too many gorgeous stripped athletes had he

ness behind her, the soft glow of the indirect lighting full upon her. Graham's lips gasped apart, and remained apart, his eyes ravished with the beauty and surprise of her h

gold-brown hair piled high; the healthy tinge of her skin that was clean and clear and white; the singing throat, full and round, incomparably set on a hea

cling and weight of her draperies with her knees--round knees, he knew, that he had seen press desperately into the round muscle-pads of Mountain Lad. Graham observed, also, that she neither wore nor needed corseting. Nor could he

lcome to the Big House and all the hacienda in a voice that he knew was a singing voice and that could

ng of her. While he held his own in the general fun and foolishness, it was hi

ng fourteen, had arrived shortly before the first gong and had remained to ride home in the moonlight. Graham could not remember their names; but he made out that they came from some valley town thirty miles

to be the caravanserai which it has been since my arrival, th

Watson, there, next to Dick, is of the old land-aristocracy. Her grandfather, Wicken, came across th

e was joy. But he was dissatisfied with both conclusions, and knew he had not put his finger on her. And then it came to him--pride. That was it! It was in her eye, in the poise of her head, in the curling tendrils of her hair, in her sensitive nostrils, in the mobile lips, in

democratic; but toy she was not. At times, to him, she seemed to glint an impression of steel--thin, jewel-like steel. She seemed strength in its most delicate terms and fabrics. He fondled the impression of her as of silvers

something from Phillips Brooks for you to chew on. Brooks said that no man 'has come to true greatness who has n

ally sneered back. He was a slender, long-faced olive-brunette,

yway, I quoted only figuratively. Call it

iet, long-faced Irishman, whose sleeves were threadbare and frayed. "And by the same

, Terrence,"

takable Hindoo, crumbling his bread with exquisitely slend

-faced youth, sensitive and shrinking, crowned

e, hands on table, leaning forward

for the thousandth time. Theodore"--to the youthful poet--"it's a poor start. Get into th

rd, and the poet blushed and re

ed on the blac

Bergson so well has said, with the utmost refinement of philosophic sp

ning Ernestine's conclusion as well as th

e a chance to-night," Paula

y didn't come with the Wickenberg crowd.

, uncatalogued books in their cabins. They have the run of the library, as well, and you'll see them drifting in and out, any time of the day or night, with their arms full of books--also, the latest magazines. Dick says they are responsible fo

?" Graham asked, the while he pleasured in looking stra

ll lifting his gaze to her high-piled hair, he again saw, but more pronounced, the bronze note glinting from the brown-golden hair. Nor did he fail to startle and thrill to a dazzlement of smile and teeth and eye that frequently lived its life in her face. H

ces, and--and hereditaments, and such things. They will be with us always until we bury them or they bury us. Once in a while one or another of them drifts away--for a time. Like the cat, you know. Then it costs Dick real money to get them back. Terrence, there--Terrence McFane--he's an epicurean anarchis

ome of its origin and thereby to win the formula that would explain the cosmos. He got as far as Denver, traveling as tramps travel, when he mixed

ng. That's why he wears a beard. To shave, he holds, is unnecessary work, and, therefore, immoral. I remember, at Melbourne, when he broke in upon Dick and me, a sunburnt wild man from out the Australian bush. It seems he'd be

till talk for a while, enabling him to study the q

He really writes some remarkable verse... when he does write; but he prefers to dream and live in the jungle with Terrence and Aaron. He was tutoring immigrant Jews in San Francisco, when Terrence and Aaron rescued him, or captured him, I don't know which. He's

ndoo, there

invited Leo. Dick says, in time, three more are bound to appear, and then he'll have his Seven Sages of the Madro?o Grove. Their jungl

synthetic system of philosophy; the other, rebellion against the tyranny of British rule in India. He advocates individual terrorism and direct mass action. That's why his paper, Kadar, or Ba

ges more intimately, a word of warning, especially if the encounter be in the stag room: Dar Hyal is a total abstainer; Theodore Malken can get poetically drunk, and usually does, on one cocktail; Aaron Hancock is

ed about it. Quite unconsciously did they, who respected few things under the sun, and among such few things not even work-- quite unconsciously, and invariably, did they recognize the certain definite aloofness in Dick

fascinated Graham. There was a fibrous thrill in it, most sweet to the ear, that differentiated it from any laugh he had ever heard. It caused Graham to lose the thread of young Mr. Wombold's contention that what California needed was not a Japanese exclusion law but at least two hundred thousand Japanese cool

rrence McFane and Aaron Hancock fell into a heated argument over the music of futurism. And Graham was saved from the Japanes

he room in some romp, pursued by Dick, who captured

ock wrath; and, the next moment, joine

, along with his arms and legs, as he weirdly parodied the tango in

Mr. Graham your Acorn So

ing her for the threatened punishment no

from the piano; and the cry was tak

ded. "Mr. Graham is the on

hook h

him your Go

arkle in his eyes. He stamped his feet, pranced, nickered a not b

Eros! I stamp u

ted quickly and quietly, with ju

nt of Mountain Lad, but shook

mnly. "It is about you and me, Pa

of this part of California," Paula shot i

ans dance, slapped his thighs with his palms, and beg

inam. Her father and her mother were the grasshopper and the ring-tailed cat. They were the best father and mother left after my father and mother. The coyote is very wise, the moon is very old; but who ev

woman was interrupted by protests from

e not hard upon her. The fault is with the grasshopper and the ring-tailed cat. Me, I am Ai-kut, the first man; but question not my taste. I was the first man, and this, I saw, was the firs

all his hostess's fairness, felt an awareness of hurt, and arose unsummon

e neither hopper nor cat. They were the Sierra dawn and the summer east wind of the mountains. Together they conspired, and from the air and

uail woman, my deer-woman, my lush-woman of all soft rain and fat soil. She w

it of extemporization,--"and if you think old, sweet, blue-eyed Solomon has anything on me in sing