hair, even to the balance of a hair, which was parted to equilibristic exactness on the roof of his sharp head.
Mrs. Duke surveyed the mail-order beau with approbation and pride. She said that was the cutest little coat she ever saw; she never wished she was a man so much before in all her experience as at that minute, so she might wear one of its pattern. Mr. Peck must be careful of the ham gravy. It would be a shame to splash it on that fine garment, especially the satin lapels, where it would be harder to remove than freckles.
Peck smiled, serenely, supremely. Plebeians might splash gravy on their coats; trust a man of his finesse to come through with his Tuxedo as spotless as a cherry blossom on the topmost twig.
"Did you bring some magazines for the men, Elmer?" Mrs. Duke inquired.
"Um-m-m," said Tippie, making a grudging noise that might have been interpreted variously by one unaccustomed with his speech.
"I'm glad you did, I never had such a readin' bunch of sheep-herders as them boys. One of 'em's got a lot of law books out there in his wagon, studies 'em all the time. I think he's a little cracked."
Tippie was not interested in the literary hunger of the herders. He was mixing potato and corn, morosely absorbed in the enterprise, chopping and stirring with practiced hand. When he had it right, he added ham gravy.
Peck watched the preparation of this dish with patronizing amusement, which was spiced with a dash of disdain, as the set of his moustache expressed. He
