Gaston must have said something definite to Mercedes in the dark for they both looked conscious when we came into daylight; but we have not heard anything yet.  Octavia’s friend is quite devoted to her, and Tom is getting a little jealous; so good for him, he won’t be so absolutely casual in future, I hope.  And if, Mamma, I had not an underneath feeling of I don’t know what about Harry and that Smith creature, I could be awfully happy, as I find Nelson an attentive dear; but there it is, just as I am beginning to feel frolicsome, a recollection rushes over me of them together in Africa, and a sick sensation comes up, and I feel I could play the devil if I had the chance—­and I believe I would if it were someone else; but Nelson seems too fine to trifle with.  Heigh ho!  I now know that Harry is really rather like these miners, only he has not got such good manners, but just the same absolutely fearless unconscious assurance and nerve and pluck.  I suppose that is why I love him so much—­I mean I did love him, Mamma, because, of course, I don’t now; I am quite indifferent, as you know.

On our way back to lunch we took a drive round the city.  There is not a blade of living thing rowing but the sage brush.  It is a desolation beyond description, and clouds of dust.  But everything seems alive and there is no gloom or depression.  The hotel was full of bustle and movement, and groups of men were talking together as if some news had come in, and the Senator presently told us that there had been rather a row at the dance hall after we left, and the four villainous looking men we had seen had “done a bit of shootin,’” but no one was hurt much, and they had left to-day for no one knows where.  He says this class of desperadoes are like a pestilence; whenever they descend trouble of sorts brews, and the chief of them is a man called Curly Grainger—­the “lowest yellow dog out of hell.”

In the afternoon we paid some calls on the ladies who had dined with us, and you can’t think what dear little homes they have, looking like chicken houses outside, and inside cosey and comfortable; and they were all so kind and hospitable and made us feel welcomed and honoured.  And these are real manners, Mamma—­that politeness which comes from the heart.

We were allowed to dress as in New York for our dinner party, given by Octavia’s friend at his shack, and to see the girls and Lola, and indeed us all, looking like Paris fashion plates in dainty clothes and feathered hats seemed so quaint; but when we got inside it was not out of place.

Such a person of refinement he must be!  The outside was made of boards like the rest, but inside it had bookcases and comfortable chairs and cosey sofas, and the nice look of a man’s room who is no fool and reads books and thinks thoughts.  There were several more lovely creatures whom we had not met before, altogether about eighteen the party was, and as the dining-room only held ten, naturally the rest