"But he's been allowed to run a little
wild since old man Delatour died, and the widder's got enough to do, I
reckon, lookin' arter her four gals, and takin' keer of old Delatour's
ranch over yonder. I guess it's pretty hard sleddin' for her sometimes
to get clo'es and grub for the famerly, without follerin' Bob around."
"Sharp girls, too, I reckon; one of them writes things for the
magazines, doesn't she?--Cynthia, eh?" said Mr. Hamlin, carelessly.
Evidently this fact was not a notorious one to the barkeeper. He,
however, said, "Dunno; mabbee; her father was eddicated, and the widder
Delatour, too, though she's sorter queer, I've heard tell. Lord!
Mr. Hamlin, YOU oughter remember old man Delatour! From Opelousas,
Louisiany, you know! High old sport French style, frilled
bosom--open-handed, and us'ter buck ag'in' faro awful! Why, he dropped
a heap o' money to YOU over in San Jose two years ago at poker! You must
remember him!"
The slightest possible flush passed over Mr.
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