t thing in the world to get hold of is money--when you've already
got lots of it."

"The trouble is we haven't."

"Well, you'll have to learn to look like you knew where it grew on
bushes," Emerson told him, grinning.

"I can see you've chosen me for a nice lazy job."

"Anything but that, son. You don't want to make any mistake about this
thing. Brad Steelman's goin' to fight like a son-of-a-gun. He'll strike
at our credit and at our market and at our means of transportation. He'll
fight twenty-four hours of the day, and he's the slickest, crookedest
gray wolf that ever skulked over the range."

The foreman of the D Bar Lazy R came in after supper for a conference
with his boss. He and Crawford got their heads together in the
sitting-room and the young people gravitated out to the porch. Joyce
pressed Dave into service to help her water the roses, and Keith hung
around in order to be near Dave. Occasionally he asked questions
irrelevant to the conversation. These were embarrassing or not as it
happened.

Joyce delivered a little lecture on the culture of roses, not because she
considered herself an authority, but because her guest's conversation was
mostly of the monosyllabic order. He was not awkward or self-conscious;
rather a man given to silence.

"Say, Mr. Sanders, how does it feel to be wounded?" Keith blurted out.

"You mustn't ask personal questions, Keith," his sister told him.

"Oh! Well, I already ast this one?" the boy suggested ingenuously.

"Don't know, Keith," answered the young man. "I never was really wounded.
If you mean this scratch in the shoulder, I hardly felt it at all till
afterward."

"Golly! I'll bet I wouldn't tackle a feller shootin' at me the way that
Miller was at you," the youngster commented in naive admiration.

"Bedtime for li'l boys, Keith," his sister reminded him.

"Oh, lemme stay up a while longer," he begged.

Joyce was firm. She had schooled her impulses to resist the little
fellow's blandishments, but Dave noticed that she was

Martha Finley (1828 - 1909) was a teacher and author of numerous works, the most well known being the 28 volume Elsie Dinsmore series which was published over a span of 38 years. The daughter of Presbyterian minister Dr. James Brown Finley and his wife and cousin Maria Theresa Brown Finley, she was born on April 26th, 1828 in Chillicothe, Ohio. Finley wrote many of her books under the psodonym Martha Farquharson. She died in 1909 in Elkton, Maryland, where she moved in 1876.

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