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384 many photographs of them, and had been able to judge something of their respective characters from the letters they had sent him; yet his daughters were a disappointment to him. They were pretty, and gentle, and all that; but they seemed so dependent and superficial,—so incapable of thinking and acting for themselves,—in fact, so wholly unlike Mary. His beloved pupil was so capable and self-reliant that for the last year, without knowing why, the conviction had grown upon him that his daughters would be something the same. Now that they were not, he felt, for a moment, some of Mark Stanley's bitterness, and more than half believed that the Fates had dealt unfairly with him.

With his son, Tom Morris was better pleased. Walter was a fine specimen of physical manhood, and was inclined to studiousness. His slightly-stooping shoulders, and pale, grave face, gave one the impression that he had spent too much of his time over his books.

"Ye'll git a tech o' stronger color nor that, bimeby," was Droopy's greeting. "This 'ere ole Californy am better nor liver pills an' arsennick ter take that air bleachy look outen a man's hide."

As Walter regarded the gay old miner closely, he thought that if California ever made his face like Droopy's he would certainly resort to arsenic as a relief, even from existence. But he only smiled cordially on Droopy, and said,—

"I hope that you are right."

When the stage which brought Walter Morris and his sisters arrived at Red Mountain, the whole place was enthusiastic over the celebration of Mary's birthday,—a feast-day in the Red Mountain calendar which the miners never forgot to observe. The festivities were at their height when Walter Morris stepped down from the stage; and one of his elegant and fastidious sisters covered her ears with her hands to shut out the "horrid noise" made by the brass band which the miners had imported from San Francisco, at "great expense," to "put the punctuation-marks in the programme," as the local newspaper expressed it.

"What a magnificent woman, and what an outlandish man!" was Walter's first remark when he saw Dubb and Mary, where they were viewing the merrymakers, from the hotel balcony.

"Hush," cautioned Tom, "or she will hear you: she has ears like a cat. That is my benefactor and his daughter."

An exclamation of surprise, almost of horror, burst from Walter's lips.

"It can't be possible!" he cried. "So lovely a woman the daughter of so ugly a man! And you say she is only seventeen? To what a tremendous extent do incongruities run in this new country of yours! Tell me, father, have you many more such abnormalities as this ill-matched father and daughter?"

Droopy, who had for a moment been speaking with some one else, turned his attention to Walter again, in time to catch the word "abnormalities."

"You bet," he responded, heartily; "you bet. We raises 'em here by the hundred-acre lot, an' we digs 'em outen the groun' in dead loads."