excellent and with the exception of Scott, who kept his distance, everyone was quite evidently trying to put the girl at her ease. From the train crew, who announced their intention of running over to Conejo for her trunk, to Adams who spoke for the privilege of taking her over the plant, and Williams, who begged for an early opportunity to show his collection of baskets and pottery, each had something to offer. Even the black-eyed Dolores peeped admiringly through the hole in the wall, gathering items about the visitor to retail to the eager ears of relatives and friends at the next baile.

After breakfast, Adams piloted Polly over the premises, from the corral to the office. He showed her the automobile lying idle because an important part was broken and the new one though ordered from the factory had not come.

“I hope you ride?” he said, and as she nodded: “that’s good. Maybe we can get up a party to ride across the mesa to Casa Grande. That’s Herrick’s place.”

“Herrick?”

“Yes. Queer chap—part German and part English. Artistic, you know—plays the piano and sings.”

“What’s he doing here if he’s an artist?” demanded Polly. 77

77

“Runs a ranch and writes music. His wife died suddenly—she used to travel around with him and sing his songs—they made a pile of money, I guess.”

“You don’t mean Victor Herrick!” gasped the girl.

“Yes, that’s him. He went to pieces when she died and packed up his piano and his music and came down here and buried himself on the ranch. Queer customer, but you’ll like him.”

“And to think that Bob Street never wrote me that Victor Herrick was a neighbor of his—and then wrote pages of stuff about those old Morgans!” said Polly, indignantly. “Why, I’ve heard the Herricks sing—they were wonderful! Men haven’t any sense.”

“Oh, well, he likes the Morgans. She’s a jolly kind of woman, invites a fellow to dinner and feeds him up, you know,” said Jimmy, seriously. “They’re real folks, the Morgans are, and Herrick’s a sort of a nut, don’t you see?” He threw open the door of the office abruptly. “Here’s the office, where the manager sits with his feet on the desk while the rest of us work.”

Scott, who was standing by the window, turned suddenly.

“Hullo, 

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