Her sister monopolized all the beauty and the grace, not that she was either very pretty or extremely graceful, but she was instinct with the challenge of femininity like a rare scent.  It lingered about her, it enveloped her ways; it gave a light to her eyes and made her smile exquisite.  Her clothes were not of much finer material than her sister’s, but they were cut to fit, and a bow of crimson ribbon at her throat was as effective in that environment as the most costly orchids on an evening gown.

She was armed in pride this night, talking only to her mother, and then in monosyllables alone.  At first it occurred to Steve that his coming had made her self-conscious, but he soon discovered that her pride was directed at the third man at the table.  She at least maintained a pretence of eating, but he made not even a sham, sitting miserably, his mouth hard set, his eyes shadowed by a tremendous frown.  At length he shoved back his chair with such violence that the table trembled.

“Well,” he rumbled, “I guess this lets me out.  S’long.”

And he strode heavily from the room; a moment later his cursing came back to them as he rode into the night.

“Takes it kind of hard, don’t he?” said the father.

And the mother murmured:  “Poor Ralph!”

“So you went an’ done it?” said the mannish girl to her sister.

“What of it?” snapped the other.

“He’s too good for you, that’s what of it.”

“Girls!” exclaimed the mother anxiously.  “Remember we got a guest!”

“Oh,” said she of the strong brown arms, “I guess we can’t tell him nothin’; I guess he had eyes to be seein’ what’s happened.”  She turned calmly to Steve.

“Lizzie turned down Ralph Boardman—­poor feller!”

“Sue!” cried the other girl.

“Well, after you done it, are you ashamed to have it talked about?  You make me sore, I’ll tell a man!”

“That’s enough, Sue,” growled the father.

“What’s enough?”

“We ain’t goin’ to have no more show about this.  I’ve had my supper spoiled by it already.”

“I say it’s a rotten shame,” broke out Sue, and she repeated, “Ralph’s too good for her.  All because of a city dude—­a tenderfoot!”

In the extremity of her scorn her voice drawled in a harsh murmur.

“Then take him yourself, if you can get him!” cried Lizzie.  “I’m sure I don’t want him!”

Their eyes blazed at each other across the table, and Lizzie, having scored an unexpected point, struck again.

“I think you’ve always had a sort of hankerin’ after Ralph—­oh, I’ve seen your eyes rollin’ at him.”

The other girl coloured hotly through her tan.

“If I was fond of him I wouldn’t be ashamed to let him know, you can tell the world that.  And I wouldn’t keep him trottin’ about like a little pet dog till I got tired of him and give him up for the sake of a greenhorn who”—­her voice lowered to a spiteful hiss—­“kissed you the first time he even seen you!”