Look! All you see before you is yours from the embarcadero to yonder Coast Range." The tone of half-raillery did not, however, cheer Mrs.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.