music and modern languages, who could have suspected in Marianne either the desire or the will to manage a ranch, but to Marianne the necessity for following the course she took was as plain as the palm of an open hand.  The big estate, once such a money-maker, was now losing.  Her father had lost his grip and could not manage his own affairs, but who had ever heard of a hired man being called to run the Jordan business as long as there was a Jordan alive?  She, Marianne, was very much alive.  She came West and took the ranch in hand.

Her father smiled and gave her whatever authority she required; in a week the estate was hers to control.  But for all her determination and confidence, she knew that she could not master cattle-raising in a few weeks.  She was unfemininely willing to take advice.  She even hunted for it, and though her father refused to enter into the thing even with suggestions, a little help from Hervey plus her indomitable energy might have made her attempt a success.

Hervey, however, was by no means willing to help.  In fact, he was profoundly disgruntled.  He had found himself, beyond all expectation, in a position almost as absolute and dignified as that of a real owner with not the slightest interference from Jordan, when on a sudden the arrival of this pretty little dark-eyed girl submerged him again in his old role of the hired man.  He took what Marianne considered a sneaking revenge.  He entered at once upon a career of the most perfect subordination.  No fault could be found with his work.  He executed every commission with scrupulous care.  But when his advice was asked he became a sphinx.  “Some folks say one way and some another.  Speaking personal, I dunno, Miss Jordan.  You just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

This attitude irritated her so that she was several times on the verge of discharging him, but how could she turn out so old an employee and one so painstaking in the duties assigned to him?  Many a day she prayed for “a new foreman or night,” but Hervey kept his job, and in spite of her best efforts, affairs went from bad to worse and the more desperately she struggled the more hopelessly she was lost.  This affair of the horses was typical.  No doubt the saddle stock were in sad need of improved blood but this was hardly the moment to undertake such an expenditure.  Having once suggested the move, the quiet smiles of Hervey had spurred her on.  She knew the meaning of those smiles.  He was waiting till she should exhaust even the immense tolerance of her father; when she fell he would swing again into the saddle of control.  Yet she would go on and buy the mares if she could.  Hers was one of those militant spirits which, once committed, fights to the end along every line.  And indeed, if she ever contemplated surrender, if she were more than once on the verge of giving way to the tears of broken spirit, the vague, uninterested eyes of her father and the overwise smiles of Hervey were whips which sent her back into the battle.