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 Mrs. Goodloe answered the bell. There was no mistaking her after Uncle Boley's mention of her teeth. Texas never had seen teeth to compare with those in any human mouth. They were as broad as thumb-nails, yellow as old, and a shortage in the goods of which her upper lip had been cut had left their owner without means of concealing them save by an effort which brought on a spasmodic convulsion of the face, alarming and distressing to behold.

This operation Mrs. Goodloe seemed to consider a necessary preliminary to speech. It could be effected only by pulling down the short upper lip, and that tension in turn tightened the skin on her large nose and drew it down from her eyes, giving Mrs. Goodloe a most startled and astonished look.

She stood in the door, her face arranged in this manner, saying nothing, but looking Texas over as if in doubt whether he was cura or cowboy. Her face was red, and sweat glistened on it, as if she had put down some violent task to answer his summons. He inquired about accommodations, mentioning Uncle Boley.

At the mention of Uncle Boley Mrs. Goodloe smiled. It came on her so suddenly, and was so vast in extent, that she looked as if she had ripened and burst, like a touch-me-not, and was about to sow a crop of teeth.