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But that only raises the further question, What is a tonsil? And to that no answer can be given but Echo's. They are one of the conundrums of physiology. All we know of them is that they are not true glands, as they have neither duct nor secretion, but masses of simple embryonic tissue called lymphoid, which has a habit of grouping itself about the openings of disused canals.
Jack Payson, however, failed to get the proper credit for this sudden flowering of Echo's beauty and charm. These were ascribed to her year's schooling in the East, and her proud mother was offended by the way in which she accepted the young ranchman's advances. "You hold yourself too cheap," she said.
When Payson reasonably objected to this delay by pointing out he was fully able to support a wife, as Lane had not been, and proposed, with Echo's assent, six months as the limit of waiting, Mrs. Allen resorted to her expedient tears. "BOO-HOO! you are going to take away my only daughter!"
Across from him in the dead silence dead save for the lingering of the echo's ghost stood the woman, her hands clutched to her thin bosom, her eyes stunned and dilated, her body wavering on legs about to buckle in collapse. On the puncheon floor between them stretched the woman's husband.
She meant to carry it slung across her shoulder on a stick as soon as she was well away from the prying eyes of Echo's inhabitants. Later, if she felt tired, she could easily hide it behind a bush along the road and send one of her father's cowboys after it. The road was very dusty and carried the wind-blown traces of automobile tires.
"Hold on now, They ain't a soul goin' to do nothin' for her except her mother," she whimpered. "There she goes again," said Jack in disgust. "He's goin' to take my child away from me," wailed the mother. Tears were streaming down Echo's cheek. "Don't cry, mother," she wept. "No, no, don't cry," echoed the girls. "It's all for the best," began Polly.
Often he had run after Echo, but he never could catch up with her, nor even see a glimpse of her silver and green dress. She always played Hide-and-Seek with him, and he was always "it." However, he didn't worry long about friend Echo this morning. He was thinking of the Toyman. For the Toyman's face had looked worried far away and sad. It had looked somehow as Echo's voice always sounded.
Oh, Bud, Bud, what have you done?" "I should have killed him," was Bud's answer, a gazed after the retreating form galloping down trail. Mrs. Allen, hearing Echo's calls, hastened in from the kitchen. She found her daughter sobbing at the table. "What is the matter, child?" Then, turning to Bud, she fiercely demanded of him: "What have you been saying to her?"
"I am sorry to leave you," interrupted Sir Henry, as he shook him off, "particularly at this interesting part of the story; but it is late, and my brother feels unwell, and I wish to go to the cottage to call our guide." Delme was pursued by the echo's elucidator, who being duly remunerated, allowed Sir Henry to accompany the guide towards the boat. George was not standing where he had left him.
Jack could scarcely control his voice. The sight of Echo's suffering unmanned him. "My father, too," wailed Echo. "He thought only of your happiness," Jack claimed. "What of my promise my promise to marry Dick? Where is he?" moaned the girl. "He's gone back to the desert." Over her swept the memory of the terrible dream.
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