“My wife,” said Corliss.

Sundown doffed his sombrero sweepingly.  “Welcome to Arizona, ma’am.”

“This is my friend, Washington Hicks, Margery.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Sundown.  “It ain’t my fault, neither.  I had nothin’ to say about it when they hitched that name onto me.  I reckon I hollered, but it didn’t do no good.  Me pals”—­and Sundown shrugged his shoulder—­“mostly gents travelin’ for their health—­got to callin’ me Sundown, which is more poetical.  ’Course, when I got married—­”

“Married!” exclaimed Corliss, grinning.

“You needn’t to grin, Billy.  Gettin’ married’s mighty responsible-like.”

Corliss made a gesture of apology.  “So you’re homesteading the water-hole?  Jack wrote to me about it.  He didn’t say anything about your getting married.”

“Kind of like his not sayin’ anything about your gettin’ hitched up, eh?  He said he was hearin’ from you, but nothin’ about Misses Corliss.  Please to expect my congratulations, ma’am—­and you, too, Billy.”

“Thank you!” said Mrs. Corliss, smiling.  “Will has told me a great deal about you.”

“He has, eh?  Well, I’m right glad to be acquainted by heresy.  It kind of puts you on to what to expect.  But say, it’s hot here.  If you’ll drive back to me house, I’d sure like to show you the improvements.”

“All right, Sun!  We’ll drive right in and wait for you.”

They did not have to wait, however.  Sundown, leaving his team at the fence, took a short cut to the house.  He entered the back door and called to Anita.

“Neeter,” he said, as she hastened to answer him, “they’s some friends of mine just drivin’ up.  If you could kind of make a quick change and put on that white dress with the leetle roses sprinkled on it—­quick; and is—­is he sleepin’?”

“Si!  He is having the good sleep.”

“Fine!  I’ll hold ’em off till you get fixed up.  It’s me ole pal, Billy Corliss,—­and he’s brung along a wife.  We got to make a good front, seein’ it’s kind of unexpected.  Wrastle into that purty dress and don’t wake him up.”

“Si!  I go queek.”

“Why, this is fine!” said Corliss, entering, hat in hand, and gazing about the room.  “It’s as snug and picturesque as a lodge.”

“Beautiful!” exclaimed the enthusiastic Margery, gazing at the Navajo rugs, the clean, white-washed walls against which the red ollas, filled with wild flowers, made a pretty picture, and the great grizzly-bear rug thrown across a home-made couch.  “It’s actually romantic!”

“Me long suit, lady.  We ain’t got much, but what we got goes with this kind of country.”

Margery smiled.  “Oh, Will, I’d like a home like this.  Just simple and clean—­and comfortable.  It’s a real home.”

“Me wife’s comin’ in a minute.  While she’s—­er—­combin’ her hair, mebby you’d like to see some of the improvements.”  And Sundown marched proudly to the new dining-room—­an extension that he had built himself—­and waved an invitation for his guests to behold and marvel.