“It must have been,” replied Polly, politely. “How did you happen to come West?” “Me? Oh, I came West with an invalid,” replied Mrs. Van, easily. “She was one of the cranky kind—middle-aged and none of her family could live with her. You’ve seen that kind? They wanted she should have a trained nurse and the trained nurse never was born that she could get along with. Trained nurses are awful bossy—they can’t help it, they’re supposed to be; that’s all the difference there is between them and the ones that ain’t trained. So I come out to look after her.” “Did she die?” “Not she. Get it out of your head that lungers always die—they don’t. She got well and went home and nagged the life out of her family for years. Last I heard of her, she’d taken up with a young fellow she met at a skating rink and her folks were wild for fear she’d marry him.” “Then you stayed out West?” “Yes, and sometimes I’ve regretted it. New York’s the place to live. I had a swell flat in a good neighborhood and rented rooms to single gents and business women—they’re the ones that have the money. It was 68 interesting, too. I’d put an ‘ad’ in the Sunday paper and all day Monday folks would be coming to see my rooms; I met some real nice people that way. Well, I think you’d better be turning in; you’ll feel this to-morrow.” 68 Scott and Hard rose and said good-night. “That’s a plucky girl, Scott,” said the latter, as they walked down the silent road together. “Do you know who brought her over from Conejo?” demanded Scott, with a chuckle. “I thought you said Mendoza did.” “Mendoza’s sick and she took a dislike to old Mrs. Morgan, so she came over with Juan Pachuca in his car.” “You’re joking.” “I am not. I drove as far as Junipero Hill and when I got to the top of it I saw a big car at the foot, twisted about, almost in the ditch. I found Johnny on his stomach under the car and the girl holding an electric torch for him. She said she’d been underneath giving him a hand with it. I wouldn’t put it past her.” “But the child must be out of
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