Uncle Henry was exasperated now.  “What’s that got to do with it?” he yelled.  “Her father’s rich, an’ not even he, mean as he is, would foreclose on his own son-in-law.  Mebbe he’d even lend you somethin’ besides,” he added, slyly.  He had great faith in these neighbors down the valley.

“I can’t do it,” Gilbert stated, as if he were discussing going to the nearest town.

“Won’t, you mean.”

“No.  I mean can’t—­just what I said.  It wouldn’t be fair to her.  I can’t pretend to love her when I don’t.”

“You don’t have to,” his uncle urged.  “She’s so crazy about you, she’d marry you anyway.”  Triumphant knowledge was in his tone.

“What makes you think so?” Gilbert asked, coming close to the old man.

“She told me she would.”  He got it out bravely.

Young Jones was nearly bowled over.  “She told you!” he repeated; and as he said it, passion for the first time came into his voice.  There was the sound of hoof beats down the road.  But neither of them paid any attention.

“Absolutely,” the old man affirmed.

“Absolutely?”

“Absogoshdarnlutely!” Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying.

Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle’s face.  “You don’t mean you spoke to her about it?” he said.

“Why not?” rather impudently.  “Somebody had to do it.”  And he chuckled.  “I know what would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as brave as us old boys!”

“Good Lord!” was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his head.

“John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an’ they wasn’t even related,” Uncle Henry tried to placate the other.

The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe.  Lucia Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door.  She wore a riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the soft breeze, fell around her face in a cascade of golden loveliness.  Her eyes sparkled.  She was the picture of glorious health and youth—­a woman born for love and loving.  She brought fragrance into the room.

“Hello, Gil!” she said, beating her riding-crop on her boot, and smiling that entrancing smile of hers.  She was glad to see her handsome host again after her brisk ride.

“Good morning, Lucia,” Gilbert said, hardly daring to look at her.

Uncle Henry didn’t mean to be overlooked.  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Pell,” he said, meaningly.

“Why, it is afternoon, isn’t it?” she laughed.

“It’s darn near night,” Uncle Henry rasped.

“And I’m simply famished.  Who wouldn’t be, after such a glorious ride!” Lucia said.

“The cook’s getting dinner now.  Have a good canter, you say?” young Jones inquired.

“I missed you,” Lucia answered, unashamed.

Uncle Henry looked disgusted.

“I’m sorry, I had a lot of things to attend to.  I’m glad you’re back, for I was beginning to be worried about you, Lucia.  Bandits!  They’re around again.”