Tucker. She
shuddered slightly and cast her eyes over the monotonous sea of _tule_
and meadow.
"It doesn't look pretty, perhaps," continued Poindexter, "but it's the
richest land in the State, and the _embarcadero_ will some day be a
town. I suppose you'll call it Blue Grassville. But you seem tired!" he
said, suddenly dropping his voice to a tone of half humorous sympathy.
Mrs. Tucker managed to get rid of an impending tear under the pretense
of clearing her eyes. "Are we nearly there?" she asked.
"Nearly. You know," he added, with the same half mischievous, half
sympathizing gayety, "it's not exactly a palace you're coming
to,--hardly. It's the old _casa_ that has been deserted for years, but
I thought it better you should go into possession there than take up
your abode at the shanty where your husband's farm-hands are. No one
will know when you take possession of the _casa_, while the very hour
of your arrival at the shanty would be known; and if they should make
any trouble"--
"If they should make any trouble?" repeated Mrs.
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