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That’s feeminine, and as such is approved by the ladies, but"—and here Leander put his head on one side and gave a grotesque impression of outraged decorum—"pants is considered unwomanly." "Leander! Leander!" came in accusing accents from the kitchen. "Run!" gasped Mrs. Dax’s handmaiden; "don’t let her catch us chinnin’."
Leander grimaced and rubbed his hands in an ecstasy of delight at finding a man who had the temerity to bandy words with Mrs. Dax. "Hum-m-m-ph!" she whinnied, with equine coquetry. "Guess it was rustlers brought you back as much as me." Judith, who had entered the room in time to hear Mrs. Dax’s last remark, greeted him casually, but her eyes, as they met his, were full of questioning fear.
"I’ve come all the way from Dax’s to see you," explained Judith, with characteristic directness. "We have all the afternoon." "Really!" Mary displayed a flash of school-girl enthusiasm. "I feel as if I could almost bear the scenery." Presumably Judith was a favorite guest of the Yellett household, and not without reason.
Yellett, shortly after Leander Dax’s arrival at camp in the capacity of herder, announced that she and Leander were to make a trip to the dipping-vat that had kept Ben from his classes for the past ten days, and invited the "gov’ment" to join the expedition, Mary accepted with fervor.
Miss Carmichael’s individual toilet service, which was neither handsome nor elaborate, impressed Eudora far more potently in ranking Mary as a personage than did her dignity of office as "gov’ment." "I reckon you-uns must have seen Sist’ Judy up to Miz Dax’s. I hope she war lookin’ right well." There was in the inquiry an unmistakable note of pride. The connection was plainly one to be flaunted.
Meditating on this Spartan statement, Mary and the fat lady became aware for the first time of a subtle, silent force in the domestic economy. But so unobtrusive was this influence that one had to scrutinize very closely, indeed, to detect the evanescent personality of Mrs. Dax’s husband. Leander was his name, but it is safe to say that he swam no Hellesponts for the masterful wife of his bosom.
It was with a partially sobered and much-threatened stage-driver, therefore, that Mary continued her journey after the supper at Johnnie Dax’s, but the knowledge of it brought scant reassurance, and it is doubtful if the red stage ever harbored any one more wakeful than the pale, tired girl who watched all the changes from dark to dawn at the stage window.
"Here’s some bread and meat and a bottle of cold coffee, if you live to need it," was Mrs. Dax’s grim prognostication of accident. Leander, being of an emotional nature, could scarce restrain his tears—the advent of the travellers had created a welcome variation in the monotony of his dutiful routine—he felt all the agitation of parting with life-long friends.
With the assistance of her sons, she therefore managed the entire details of the herd, with the exception of those occasions on which Leander lent his semi-professional co-operation. As a workman Leander was, considering his size and apparent weakness, surprisingly efficient. It was as a dispenser of anti-theological doctrine that Mrs. Dax’s husband annoyed his temporary employer.
From the four quarters of the compass, men in sombreros, flannel shirts, and all manner of strange habiliments came galloping over the roads as if their horses were as keen on reaching Dax’s as their riders.
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