The Wrong Woman Part 10

"It looks simple enough, does n't it?" he remarked.

"And I never thought of it. Why, it was enough to make a person superst.i.tious. Isn't nature wonderful!"

As she took up the coffee, too long neglected, Steve got an imaginary taste of it, and finding it neither hot nor cold, he arose and took her cup. Having refilled it and offered her more of the beans, which to his surprise and gratification she accepted, he made another trip to the corral. In a little while he returned and promptly took his place.

"You were saying this morning," he began, "that you were going to the county-seat. Were you sure that you could find your way all alone?"

"Oh, yes," answered Janet. "I was there before. You see, I took an examination a couple of months ago, when I first came."

"Oh; that's it. What sort of a certificate did that little--examiner--give you?"

There was something in the sound of this question which conveyed to her that he regarded her standing in an examination largely as a matter of luck. Janet felt an instant approval of this philosophy of the matter.

"Third-cla.s.s," she answered.

"Well, that's better than fourth-cla.s.s," he remarked.

"Oh--but there _is_ no fourth-cla.s.s," exclaimed Janet.

Her eyes widened as she waited to hear what his reply to this might be.

He entirely ignored the matter.

"That examiner is a kind of a c.o.c.ky little rooster, is n't he?" he commented.

"Did you ever have any trouble with him?" inquired Janet.

"Me!" He was evidently surprised that she should think so. "Why, no.

I don't know him. I just saw him a few times. He is a sort of a dried-up little party. You know I get up to the court-house once in a while to have a brand registered or something like that."

"He _is_ rather important--for his size," mused Janet. "And very particular about his looks."

"They have a man teacher at a school near my house," remarked Steve, in no seeming connection.

"I suppose he has a first-cla.s.s certificate," said Janet. "Until lately it was easy to get a school in Texas. But the country school boards rate you by your certificate more and more. This time I am going to get first-cla.s.s, or at least second. If I don't I 'll have to go back North."

"What kind of questions does that fellow ask when he examines people?"

Steve inquired.

"Well--for instance--'Give the source and course of the Orizaba.'"

"Huh!" remarked Steve.

"To tell the truth," said Janet, "I would n't have got even third-cla.s.s if it had n't been for the way I pulled through in geography."

"Are you good in geography?"

"Hardly. I just pa.s.sed. He asked a great many questions about climate, and every time he asked that I wrote that it was salubrious.

You see," she explained, with a sly little air, "in the children's geographies the climate of a country is nearly always salubrious. So I took a chance on every country. That brought my average up."

"Good for you," exclaimed Steve. "Nothing like beating them at their own game. Won't you have some more coffee?"

"No, thank you," said Janet. "Two cups is really more than I ought to drink at night."

Having risen in expectation of getting the coffee, he gave the fire another armful of mesquite.

"You take a good deal of notice of flowers, don't you!" he said, sitting down again.

"A person could hardly help it in Texas. Lilies and trumpet-flowers and lobelias and asters and dahlias and wax-plants--they all grow wild here. And in spring it is just wonderful. There is scarcely room for gra.s.s."

"Texas won't be like that long, if it keeps on."

"No?"

"These plants all grow from seed. And when the land is heavily grazed they don't have a chance to plant themselves. They become--what do you call it--extinguished?"

"Extinct," prompted Janet.

"On my ranch, about twelve miles from here, it is n't what it used to be in springtime. We've got it pretty heavily stocked; we 're working it over into shorthorn. This place that we're on now has a fence all around it; the country is becoming crowded. And they are breaking farms all the time, too. It won't last long."

"Won't that be a shame!" said Janet. "People spoil everything, don't they? I am glad I came down here just to see the Texas prairie in spring. Even if I do have to go back again. Just look at that!"

She reached out, and, grasping a handful, she bent the still rooted bouquet so that the light shone full upon its countenance.

"How did you come to know the names of them all?" he asked.

"Why, we grow them in gardens up North. I know their names in that way. They are old acquaintances."

"Oh, that's it. Well, it is n't hard to grow them here. Us fellows out on the prairie make all our flower-beds round."

Janet paused.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You mean the _horizon_. Is n't that an idea! I am going to tell that to Ruth Ferguson the first time I write."

Steve made no reply. Janet gave her attention for a s.p.a.ce to the beans. Then, suddenly reminded, she put down her fork.

"Mr. Brown! If you were teaching just ten or twelve children, would n't it strike you as rather foolish to call the roll every morning?

You know there were only fourteen pupils in the school where I was subst.i.tuting; so of course I got acquainted with them all right away.

Well, one morning when the weather was bad there were only six present; so when the hour came I just began to teach. But a little boy who is in the first reader held up his hand and told me I had to call the roll first. I could hardly keep from smiling. As if I could n't see the six that were there. Then I made inquiry and I found that Miss Porter called the roll when there were only four there. Does n't it seem funny for a person to go through a formality like that just because--well, just because?"

"That's because you 've got sense," said Steve.

She dropped her eyes and ate. When this remark had had time to pa.s.s over, Janet's sociable spirit, never self-conscious for long, began to unfold its leaves and raise its stems and lift up its branches again.

In this juncture, the dog profited. Shep had been giving her such unremitting attention, his wistful brown eyes following each forkful as it went from plate to mouth, that Janet's consciousness of her selfish situation kept bearing in upon her till now every bean carried reproach with it. Thinking to convince him that it was only beans, and not desirable, she put him down a forkful from her own too generous allowance. She was surprised at the suddenness with which it disappeared. Beans were his staff of life also, a discovery which made her smile. And as one good turn deserves another--at least Shep seemed to think so--she was expected to do it again; thus supper, with his a.s.sistance, was soon over. And now Janet, with nothing whatever to do, sat face to face with her situation.

"Have you got a dishpan?" she inquired.

"Oh, you don't need to mind that. I have n't got anything you are used to. I just take them down to the stream and swab them off with a bunch of dry gra.s.s."