Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

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HOW MARY MET THE PUNCHERS. 53 was all quite plausible, because the floor committee for the dance was to comprise the choir, and the organist would merely change his tunes. "It's a shame/' groaned Lengthy, "a blasted shame !" as the boys turned ruefully toward the house. Even Bill's good nature was affected by the downfall of their hopes, and his manner was not as cheerful as usual when he took the water bucket from Mrs. Lewis' hands and started to fill it at the well. The more he thought of the young woman's treatment, the more angry he grew. Never before had anyone intimated that he was not worthy of acquaintance. "A man can be a gentleman," he soliloquized, "even if he does wear rough clothes and carries a gun. What confounded ideas has she got into her head, anyway?" The bucket of water was brought up with such energy that it splashed all over the ground, and almost upon the couple who had just come up from behind. "Have a drink, Mary? You'll find the water on this ranch is all right, in spite of the alkali. Wait a minute, Bill," said Lewis to the man at the well; then, turning to his niece, "This is Mr. Fordham, Mary. My niece, William. I want her to try some of this water. See how it compares with your city hydrant water." The rancher was in high spirits. He helped himself to several cupfulls of water. Very formal was Mary's recognition of Mr. Fordham, but this time he was prepared, and the coolness of his greeting quite equaled Mary's already famed frigidity. The change of demeanor was unexpected to the young woman. She vouchsafed a quick glance of surprise, just as a gentleman in immaculate costume rode up, greeted her uncle cordially, nodded to Bill, and then turned to be presented to Mary. It was Sir Percy Granville, the English owner of the neighboring ranch. She had heard the name before. Sir Percy had served in the same regiment with Captain Andrews, whose wooing she had scorned, but of whom she had often heard him speak as his friend far out on the American plains. She extended her hand in cordial greeting to the blase man of the society world, and he in turn smiled down upon her in a manner that made the cowboy long to fling him into the well. "The darned dude!" exclaimed Bill under his breath a day or so later when he chanced to hear Sir Percy urging Mary to go for a ride with him that afternoon. Bill had been quite right in his conjecture that the English-bred American girl was a clever horsewoman. She had longed for some good cross-country runs, as she called them, referring to the long dashes over the open stretch of prairie land. The sneering look on Bill's face was still there when Mary, turning suddenly, encountered it. Their eyes met, and in an instant each understood the other. "You shall recognize me, yet," was the ultimatum expressed in the firm lips and determined eyes of the man. "I aspire higher," was the apparent reply flashed back by the girl. "One little, two little, three little shirtsies," hummed Charlie as he, with Lengthy and Bill, sauntered into the back yard where the week's washing was waving gaily in the breeze. "Are our togs dry, mother?" he called, as he spied Mrs. Lewis busily taking the garments down. "Lengthy won't go to the dance tomorrow if he can't have that polky-dot handkerchief to rest his fiddle on. That blue shirt's mine. 'Twont fit Bill." Mrs. Lewis sometimes made mistakes in dispensing clothing to the three cavaliers. "Hey, Lengthy — Bill — what do you think of this now?" exclaimed Charlie, who was examining the material of a neat, red, dress skirt hanging on the line. "Now that's what I call wool, real wool. Nothing shoddy about that. Why in thunder can't we get shirts as good as — " "How dare you !" The owner, with a face almost as crimson as the garment, had appeared, unnoticed by the interested wool inspectors. At her sharp words and hasty confiscation of the skirt, there was