matters with her." He laughed shortly. "It means, of course, that
I'll have to telegraph to San Francisco to-morrow and buy her a later
model. Thank goodness, she has a birthday to-morrow! Have a fresh
cigar, Mayor."

Riding home that night in Shirley Sumner's car Mrs. Poundstone leaned
suddenly toward her husband, threw a fat arm around his neck and
kissed him. "Oh, Henry, you darling!" she purred. "What did I tell
you? If a person only wishes hard enough--"

"Oh, go to the devil!" he roared angrily. "You've nagged me into it.
Shut up and take your arm away. Do you want me to wreck the car
before we've had it an hour?"

As for Colonel Pennington, he had little difficulty in explaining the
deal to Shirley, who was sleepy and not at all interested. The
Poundstones had bored her to extinction, and upon her uncle's
assurance that she would have a new car within a week, she thanked
him and for the first time retired without offering her cheek for his
good-night kiss. Shortly thereafter the Colonel sought his own
virtuous couch and prepared to surrender himself to the first good
sleep in three weeks. He laid the flattering unction to his soul that
Bryce Cardigan had dealt him a poor hand from a marked deck and he
had played it exceedingly well. "Lucky I blocked the young beggar
from getting those rails out of the Laurel Creek spur," he mused, "or
he'd have had his jump-crossing in overnight--and then where the
devil would I have been? Up Salt Creek without a paddle--and all the
courts in Christendom would avail me nothing."

He was dozing off, when a sound smote upon his ears. Instantly he was