"If you call taking her out to watch a lot of bellowing calves get branded, entertainment," Miss Chapin sighed.
"I wonder what makes widows so fascinating?" observed the youthful Miss Blake.
"I hope I never find out." Jean clutched nervously at the gold medal on her dress. "Wouldn't that be dreadful!"
"My dear, Culver seems perfectly healthy. Why worry?"
"I--I wish he were here."
Miss Blake leaned forward and read the inscription on her companion's medal. "Oh, isn't it heavy!" feeling it reverently.
"Pure gold, like himself! You should have seen him when he won it. Why, at the finish of that race all the men but Culver were making the most horrible faces. They were simply dead."
Miss Blake's hands were clasped in her lap. "They all make faces," said she. "Have you told Roberta about your en