“Ruined!” she murmured.  Even her murmur must have reached Lew Wee, how remote soever his isle of safety.  “Worn one time and all ruined up!  That’s what happens for trying to get something for nothing.  You’d think women would learn.  You would if you didn’t know a few.  Hetty Daggett, her that was Hetty Tipton, orders this by catalogue, No. 3456 or something, from the mail-order house in Chicago.  I was down in Red Gap when it come.  ’Isn’t it simply wonderful what you can get for three thirty-eight!’ says she with gleaming eyes, laying this thing out before me.  ‘I don’t see how they can ever do it for the money.’  She found out the next day when she rode up here in it with me and Mr. Burchell Daggett, her husband.  Nothing but ruin!  Seams all busted, sleazy cloth wore through.  But Hetty just looks it over cheerfully and says:  ’Oh, well, what can you expect for three thirty-eight?’ Is that like a woman or is it like something science has not yet discovered?

“That Hetty child is sure one woman.  This skirt would never have held together to ride back in, so she goes down as far as the narrow gauge in the wagon with Buck Devine, wearing a charming afternoon frock of pale blue charmeuse rather than get into a pair of my khakis and ride back with her own lawful-wedded husband; yes, sir; married to him safe as anything, but wouldn’t forget her womanhood.  Only once did she ever come near it.  I saved her then because she hadn’t snared Mr. Burchell Daggett yet, and of course a girl has to be a little careful.  And she took my counsels so much to heart she’s been careful ever since.  ’Why, I should simply die of mortification if my dear mate were to witness me in those,’ says she when I’m telling her to take a chance for once and get into these here riding pants of mine because it would be uncomfortable going down in that wagon.  ’But what is my comfort compared to dear Burchell’s peace of mind?’ says she.

“Ain’t we the goods, though, when we do once learn a thing?  Of course most of us don’t have to learn stuff like this.  Born in us.  I shouldn’t wonder if they was something in the talk of this man Shaw or Shavian—­I see the name spelled both ways in the papers.  I can’t read his pieces myself because he rasps me, being not only a smarty but a vegetarian.  I don’t know.  I might stand one or the other purebred, but the cross seems to bring out the worst strain in both.  I once got a line on his beliefs and customs though—­like it appears he don’t believe anything ought to be done for its own sake but only for some good purpose.  It was one day I got caught at a meeting of the Onward and Upward Club in Red Gap and Mrs. Alonzo Price read a paper about his meaning.  I hope she didn’t wrong him.  I hope she was justified in all she said he really means in his secret heart.  No one ought to talk that way about any one if they ain’t got the goods on ’em.  One thing I might have listened to with some patience if the man et steaks and talked more like some one you’d care