But what were the sober pleasures of housekeeping and cooking beside
the rough, deep-living exhilaration of gypsy life on the plains! She
looked back pityingly at those days of stagnant peace, compared the
entertainment to be extracted from embroidering a petticoat frill to
the exultant joy of a ride in the morning over the green swells. Who
would sip tea in the close curtained primness of the parlor when they
could crouch by the camp fire and eat a corn cake baked on the ashes or
drink brown coffee from a tin cup? And her buffalo robe on the ground,
the blanket tucked round her shoulder, the rustling of furtive animal
life in the grass outside the tent wall--was there any comparison
between its comfort and that of her narrow white bed at home, between
the clean sheets of which she had snuggled so luxuriously?
There were other matters of charm and interest in the wilderness,
matters that Susan did not speak about--hardly admitted to herself, for
she was a modest maid. She had never yet had a lover; no man had ever
kissed her or held her hand longer than a cool, impersonal respect
dictated.
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