"You have traveled considerably, Mr. Baptiste, I understand."

He felt somewhat flattered to know that she had discussed him with others apparently.

"Well, yes, I have," he replied slowly.

"That must be fine. I long so much to travel."

"You have not traveled far?"

"No. From Indiana to Western Kansas where we were most starved out, and then back to Indiana and out here." He laughed, she also joined in and they felt nearer each other by it.

"And how do you like it, Mr. Baptiste?"

"Out here, you mean?"

"Yes, why, yes, of course," she added hastily.

"Why, I like it fine. I'm thoroughly in love with the country."

"That's nice. And you own such nice land, I don't wonder," she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, well," he replied, modestly, "I think I should like it anyhow."

"Of course; but when one has property—such nice land as you own, they have everything to like it for."

"I'm compelled to agree with you."

"I'm sorry we don't own any," she said regretfully. "But of course in a way we are not entitled to. We didn't get in 'on the ground floor,' therefore we must be satisfied as renters."

He was silent but attentive.

"Papa never seems to have been very fortunate. It may be due to his quaint old fashioned manner, but he has never owned any land at all, poor fellow." She said the last more to herself than to him. He was interested and continued to listen.

"We went to Western Kansas with a little money and very good stock, and were dried out two years straight, and the third year when we had a good crop with a chance to get back at least a little of what we had lost, along came a big hail storm and pounded everything into the ground."

"Wasn't that too bad!" he cried sympathetically.

"It sure was! It is awfully discouraging to work as hard and to have sacrificed as much as we had, and then come out as we did. It just took all the ambition out of him."

"I shouldn't wonder," he commented tenderly.

"And then we went back to Indiana—broke, of course, and having no money and no stock; because we had to sell what we had left to get out of Western Kansas. So since 'beggars can't be choosers' we had to take what we could get. And that was a poor farm in a remote part of Indiana, in a little place that was so poor that the corn was all nubbins. They called it 'Nubbin Ridge.'"

He laughed, and she had to also when she thought of it.

"Well, we were able to live and pay a little on some more stock. Because my brothers didn't take much to run around with like other boys but stayed home and worked, we finally succeeded in getting just a little something together again and then a real estate man came along and told us about this place, so here we are." She bestowed a smile upon him and sighed. She had told more of themselves than she had intended, but it had been a pleasant diversion at that; moreover, she was delighted because he was such an attentive listener.