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“Crow” was a broad, heavy-set cow-puncher, wearing chaps, and in the endeavor to “run around agin,” I found my progress somewhat impeded by his spurs, which caught in my skirt and very nearly upset me.

All the riders wore their heavy boots and spurs, and it required real agility to avoid being stepped on or having one’s skirt torn to ribbons. I was devoutly thankful that chiffon and tulle ball gowns were not worn on ranches.

There was more to avoid than spurs. We had to dance about the kitchen and avoid the stove, the sink and the tabled musicians, to say nothing of the nails in the floor. But after a few hours’ practice, I began to feel qualified to waltz on top of the House of the Seven Gables, and avoid at least six of them.

Finally, the caller-out shouted loudly:

My partner obeyed every command with such vigor that when at last he led me to my seat I was panting and dizzy; nor had I quite recovered my breath when the music struck up again, and Tex led me forth.

The exertion of the first quadrille had been too much for his comfort, so he had dispensed with both collar and coat. His trousers and vest bore evidence of having seen many a round-up, and his shirt, which had once been white, was now multi-colored. In the wonderful red ascot tie which encircled his neck were stuck four scarf-pins, one above the other. There being nothing to hold the loop of the tie in place, it gradually worked up the back of his head, until its progress was stopped by the edge of a small skull-cap, which Tex wore as the crowning feature of his costume. The cap, tilted slightly to one side, gave him a rakish appearance, quite in contrast with his air of importance and responsibility.

I danced—my head fairly spins when I think how I danced—for, since the party was given in our honor, dance I must with every man who asked me.

Owen, not being a dancing man, made himself agreeable to the wall-flowers and the children, stealing upstairs about once an hour for a few moments’ nap on the bedroom floor. The beds themselves were occupied by sleeping infants, whose mothers were going through the intricate mazes of those dances below.

At one o’clock Tex began to make the coffee, whereupon the musicians descended from the table, and the expectant party sat down. But where were their baskets? My heart sank, as Tex approached holding a very small one. He informed me in a stage whisper it was all there was!

The basket contained a cake and one wee chick, evidently fried soon after leaving the shell. It was the smallest chicken I ever saw. I hastily produced our cake and roast, and then took one despairing look around at the forty individuals to be fed. I shall never be able to explain it, unless Tex had an Aladdin’s lamp concealed in his pocket, for cake, roast and chicken appeared to be inexhaustible, and the supply more than equaled the demand.

I was aroused from my contemplation of the miracle by a feminine voice, the speaker saying half to herself and half to me:

“It took me most two hours to iron Nell’s dress this mornin’, but I sure got a pretty ‘do’ on it.” Following her beaming glance, I found that it rested on a mass of ruffles, which adorned the dress of “Birdie” of that first quadrille. Just then the music began again, and I saw Ed Lay ask her to dance. I trusted, after all that work,