"Polly! Poll-ee!" sounded musically from the direction of the kitchen doorway in a ranch-house, and reached Polly Brewster as she knelt beside her pet in the barn.
Run outside and see what Maw wants, Poll, said Mr. Brewster, who was working faithfully over the object of Polly's solicitous devotion.
Obediently, Polly ran out and shaded her eyes as she gazed across the great depression of the volcanic crater which had made such a wonderful farm for the Brewsters. At the door of the long, squat homestead, stood Mrs. Brewster, waiting for an answer.
The moment she saw Polly, she called: "Din-ner-r's ready!"
All right! shouted the girl, waving her sun-bonnet to signify she had heard the message.
Mrs. Brewster returned to the kitchen and Polly went back to her father's side. He glanced up as she entered the barn, and Polly replied to his questioning look.
Maw said dinner's ready.
Well, Ah reckon Noddy's all right now, Poll, said the rancher, as he stood up to stretch his tired muscles.
I felt sure she would be, Paw, returned Polly, positively.
If only Jeb was about, now, Ah could leave him with Noddy, with directions about the medicine, till we-all get back from dinner, mused Mr. Brewster, standing in the doorway to look about for Jeb.
Why, Daddy! Do you suppose I'd leave Noddy with Jeb for a single moment? And just as we saved her life, too! I reckon not! I'll stop here myself and watch her, declared Polly with finality, as she assumed the post vacated by her father, and held the little burro's fuzzy head upon her knees.
Sam Brewster smiled as he watched Polly bend over her pet and whisper affectionately in the long, sensitive ear.
"
Poll, Jeb will shore say you used witchcraft on the burro; he said Noddy was done for—being buried under that slide the way she was.
"Noddy would have been done for if Jeb had had her in charge; but she just couldn't refuse to live, with me right here calling her back, you know. She loves me so, she had to listen to my voice, explained Polly, with suspicious moisture in her big blue eyes.
Ah reckon that's it, Poll! Love works wonders if we'd only let it. And you love everything in a way that everything loves you back again. It beats me, how the beavers, and foxes, and even the bears treat you as if you were one of them, instead of running to cover. As for the chicks and colts and lambs on the ranch—why, they'd follow you to Oak Creek, if they could!
Polly smiled happily as she looked away over the distant mountain-sides where Nature's creatures roamed unrestrained. And then her eyes rested upon the pastures nearer home, where the farm pets grazed. Every one of them, wild or tame, were her friends.
Reckon Ah'll go now, Poll. What shall Maw do about the dinner?
Tell her not to bother about me. I'll wash the dishes' when I get back, Daddy.
So Mr. Brewster started for the house and Polly settled herself in a more comfortable position while crooning to little Noddy. As she sat holding the little burro's head, her thoughts wandered back to the time when Noddy was but three days old. The mother had died and left the tiny bundle of brown wool to be brought up on a nursing bottle. To keep the baby burro warm it had been wrapped in an old blanket and placed back of the kitchen stove. Thus Noddy first learned to walk in the large kitchen of the log ranch-house, and later it felt quite like a member of the family.
Being such a sleepy little colt, the name of Noddy was considered very appropriate but, as the burro grew older, it showed such intelligence and energy that its name was a dreadful misnomer.
Noddy considered Polly her particular charge and followed her about the place like a dog. And when the burro was full-grown, she became the daily companion that Polly rode to school, over the mountain trails, or about the farm.
The wise western burros are not half appreciated by folks who do not understand their unusual intelligence and their devotion to their masters. They will seek for water or edible herbs when lost on the desert or mountain peaks and sacrifice life to save that of the rider's.
But Noddy's present condition was not due to sacrifice. Most of the horses and burros at Pebbly Pit showed such an aversion to the Rainbow Cliffs that they never grazed near there, although the luxuriant grass made fine pasturage. These cliffs were the local wonder and gave the farm its name. They were a section of jagged "pudding-stone" wall composed of large and small fragments of gorgeously hued stones massed together in loose formation, like shale. Great heaps of these jeweled fragments, which crumbled easily from the cliff, lay piled up along the base of the wall and sparkled brilliantly when the sun shone upon them, or directly after a rain.
Noddy had been pasturing out the night before her accident, and at sunrise found herself too near the tabooed cliffs. She lifted her ears suspiciously, wrinkled her nose fearfully, and wheeled to run away to a more desirable locality. But in that quick turn she loosened the shale at the base of a steep descent. The treacherous rock slid and threw her down. Before she could get up and away the great mass rumbled down and covered her, but she finally managed to work her head free for breath.
Jeb, out early to seek for stray cattle, saw the fresh slide and gazed wonderingly at it. Then he spied the nose and hoof of a burro protruding from the shale. He rushed to the barn where he had left Mr. Brewster, and in a short time master and man had the tools and "cradle" back at the spot, and Noddy was soon unearthed. She was unconscious, and Jeb declared it was useless to bother with a burro so evidently far gone. Even Mr. Brewster feared she was past help, but Polly insisted that Noddy must live.
All that morning Polly sat holding the limp brown head while whispering words of affection in the long ears, and who will say that Noddy's instinct did not respond to love, even though the physical sense of hearing was deaf to earthly sounds? She slowly revived and was resting comfortably when the house-call came for dinner.
Mr. Brewster returned after dinner, bringing a bowl of gruel for the burro, and Jeb followed his master to inquire about the patient.
Jeb, you-all help me feed Noddy while Polly runs to the house for her dinner, said Mr. Brewster.
I'd a heap rather wait here and help with Noddy, Paw!
Oh, Polly! Maw told me to say there was a letter for you. Jim Melvin stopped off with our mail he got at Oak Creek to-day.
A letter! Who can it be from? asked Polly wonderingly. "That's what you must find out. It looks like a girl's writing and it is post-marked Denver. Who do you know there?" replied her father.
Denver? Why, nobody! I'll run and see who it's from! cried she eagerly, and Mr. Brewster smiled at the success of the ruse to get his daughter away for a time.
Polly was a genuine child of Nature. Her life of little more than fourteen years had been spent in the mountains surrounding her ranch-home, Pebbly Pit. The farm was oddly located in the crater of an extinct volcano, known on the maps as "The Devil's Grave." Like many other peaks scattered about in this region of Colorado, the volcanic fires had been dead for centuries.
The outer rim of the crater formed a natural wall about the bowl, and protected the rich and fertile soil of the farm from the desert winds that covered other ranches with its fine alkali dust. The snows in winter, lodging in the crevices of the cliffs, slowly melted during the progress of summer, thus furnishing sufficient moisture for the vegetation growing in the "bowl"; and this provided splendid pasturage for the herds of cattle owned by the rancher.
When Sam Brewster staked his claim in this crater, his companions jeered at the choice and called the place "Pebbly Pit." But the young man had studied agriculture thoroughly and knew what he was doing; then the test made by the government convinced him of this.
Besides, his Denver bride preferred the beauty of the spot to the more sociable but draughty ranches in the valley of Bear Forks River; so they settled in the crater, and named the farm Rainbow Cliffs, but the original nick-name clung, and gradually the owners, from habit, also came to call their place "Pebbly Pit."
In the mountains where the government gives a settler all the timber he needs, transportation is so difficult and paid labor almost unknown, so that the size and quality of a rancher's house and out-buildings expresses his character. Sam Brewster's buildings and fences were as solid and comfortable as any in the State. He and his wife (a refined young woman) were ambitious and energetic, so it was not surprising that they succeeded in life.
When John, the first-born, had completed his studies at High School in Denver, he was sent to a well-known college in Chicago. And now that Polly, seven years John's junior, had finished her grammar course at the little Bear Forks log school-house, she, too, was determined to enter High School at Denver.
Sam Brewster had stubbornly refused to consent to the plan, taking for an excuse that no friends or relatives remained in Denver where Polly might board, and commutation was out of the question. But he knew, and so did his wife, that the truth of his refusal lay in the fact that he could not bear to part with his youngest child—even though she visited at home each week-end.
Mrs. Brewster sided with Polly's ambition, and planned to visit her old home in Denver to see if she could find any friends who would prove to be desirable for Polly to associate with. The matter stood thus this lovely June day when the unexpected letter arrived.
The very unusual occurrence created enough interest for Polly to take her mind from the burro, so she ran swiftly towards the house while every possible correspondent she could think of passed through her thoughts. But she was as much at sea as ever, when she danced up the log steps leading directly to the kitchen.
Maw, Maw! Where are you—is there really a letter?
Yes—from Denver! But how is Noddy? replied Mrs. Brewster, coming to the kitchen door, holding a square envelope in her hand.
Dear little Noddy—she is all right now, Maw, but it looked mighty bad a bit of time back. I just had to pray and pray with all my might, Maw—you know how! sighed Polly, taking the refined-looking letter from her mother without seeing it.
I never knew how I loved that dear little bundle of fuzz and flesh till I thought she was dead! Oh, I am so glad she will live that I don't care if I ever eat again or not!
Still holding the precious letter, Polly turned back to look at the barn where the object of her love was lapping up the gruel. Mrs. Brewster smiled indulgently at her intense young daughter, then reminded her of the unopened communication.
Dear me! So much excitement in one day—I don't see how I can quiet down again. But who do you suppose would write to me? queried Polly, holding the envelope at arm's length and studying the hand-writing.
I'm not clairvoyant, Polly, so suppose you open it and see for yourself, laughed Mrs. Brewster.
Well, I hate to spoil this nice stationery but—here it goes! murmured Polly, severing an end of the envelope as if she was the executioner of an innocent victim.
See who it's from, Polly, while I dish up your dinner. Of course you don't care whether you ever eat again, but I would suggest that at least you strive to ward off starvation, remarked her mother, teasingly, as she took a well-filled plate from the oven.
Wh-h-y—of all things! gasped Polly, as she read the letter quickly.
Mrs. Brewster stood waiting to hear more, and Polly gave another hurried glance at the signature before explaining.
It's from Anne Stewart—the girl who used to teach at Bear Forks school that time the teacher got sick and had to leave for a few months. You know—the pretty one with the blonde hair that all the big scholars raved over? announced Polly.
Oh, yes! The one that you said was so happy to be in this wonderful country?
Yes, that's the girl! Well, guess what she writes me? And Polly waved the written sheet above her head.
Polly, have you been writing to her about High School? hurriedly asked Mrs. Brewster.
I never thought of that! Maybe we can plan it with her, returned Polly, her expression changing instantly to meet the new suggestion of her mother's.
Well, time enough to settle that question. Now tell me what she wrote, declared Mrs. Brewster, sighing with relief.
You'll be taken right off your feet, Maw, so you'd best sit down and listen, advised Polly, nibbling at a biscuit while she waited for her mother to be seated.
Now, I don't want you to shake your head or say a word, until I'm all through reading, Maw. It's something terribly surprising and goodness only knows why she asked me. I was so young when she taught school that she never noticed me much.
Yes, you were so much younger two years ago, and you are so very ancient now! retorted Mrs. Brewster, trying to appear serious.
You know what I mean—but this isn't reading you the letter and I know just how you'll gasp when you hear her brother—listen and I'll read it.
Having seen that her mother was seated and ready for the surprise,
Polly read:
"Dear Miss Polly: As you are fast reaching the boundary-line where girlhood and womanhood meet, I feel I must address you with the prefix that dignifies this stage of your life, although I seem to know you best as the rosy-cheeked little girl whose name of 'Polly' seemed to fit her exactly.
""
Perhaps your mother will be surprised that I did not write this letter to her, as most of it concerns her and her family directly. But I can best explain why I am writing to you by the following: My brother Paul and your brother John are chums in college, you know, and I heard quite recently that you wished to prepare for High School in Denver this fall. When a friend in Chicago wrote me to find a good home in the mountains near Denver where I can stay with and tutor his daughters during the summer, I thought of the region about Bear Forks. Having been there myself, I know how wonderful the country and climate are.
""
If your mother and yourself think well of my proposition, I know I can help you a great deal, also, towards preparing you for High School, as I will have to devote a short time each day this summer in keeping Eleanor up in her studies. Last year Eleanor and Barbara Maynard, of Chicago, came to board with us in Denver. These girls are acquainted with Paul and John, through their brother who is a class-mate of the boys. The younger girl, Eleanor, who is your age, had been very ill and the doctor ordered her to Denver because of the wonderful air. Her sister, who is about my age, accompanied her. The father, Mr. Maynard, engaged me to tutor Eleanor, or Nolla we call her, during her stay in Denver, as she was backward in lessons.
""
We three became very good friends and when the girls went back to Chicago, I missed their companionship very much. I had a letter from the father last week, asking me to find a mountain resort for this summer where he could send the girls, as Nolla needs the invigorating air and simple life of the Rockies. She is organically sound but not strong enough to stand city air and life. Mr. Maynard has been through the Bear Forks country and when I wrote suggesting a ranch there, he immediately wired me to settle the matter at once. To-day I had a letter from the mother who cannot go with her daughters for the summer, so she asked me to go with them, more as a friend and adviser than as a tutor. My expenses will be paid, and my salary for tutoring Nolla will be a blessing to help Paul through his third year's term of the college course.
""
I know your brother is away with Tom Latimer on some practice work with a survey crew, so his room is vacant this summer. Then too, I was told by John that you had a small spare room back of the kitchen, so that three girls could have comfortable quarters. If, by any chance, your mother would consent to take us in for the summer, I could help you with your preparatory lessons for High School next term, at the same time that I coach Nolla. And I will agree for myself and the two girls that we will not expect any other than your usual home-life. This unexpected request may meet with disapproval and refusal by your family, but do not let one of the causes be on the grounds of the extra work we might create, because we do not want any fussing, whatever, but we do want to be treated as members of the family—to do our share of anything that needs to be done.
""
Mr. Maynard wishes his girls to live in the outdoors as much as possible, so we will not be in your mother's way. I certainly hope your father and mother will allow us to come, and I can promise you that you will enjoy these girls very much. The terms are of no consequence, Mr. Maynard said, as he is ready to pay anything to give Nolla a quiet home and the life she needs. I trust you can persuade your mother to try us, at any rate, and so, hoping for a favorable reply to this letter,
""
I am your sincere friend, ANNE STEWART.
"While Polly read the letter aloud, her mother thought rapidly. She had the picture of a charming girl who had often met John Brewster at social gatherings during the term she taught the children at Bear Forks. Now her brother Paul was one of John's chums at college. Perhaps this girl had visited at Chicago, and perhaps John had visited her home at Denver—but he had never said a word about it. It was very evident that this girl had an intimate acquaintance with the home-life at Pebbly Pit, and this knowledge must have reached her through John. Hence John and she must be very well acquainted. John would doubtless marry some day, but his mother did not care to see him entangled before he had launched his bark on the waters of his ambition. If he was touched by one of Cupid's darts to fancy himself in love with his chum's pretty sister, it was good judgment for his mother to know all there was to be known about the girl. Not that the letter confessed this state of affairs, but the mother feared that such must be the case—for who could resist loving her handsome, clever boy?
Maw! I said—Anne Stewart is perfectly lovely!
Oh, yes, Polly! So I believe, replied Mrs. Brewster, in an absent-minded manner.
Well! If you'd let them come here I would love it!
You can't judge beforehand, Polly. Having three city strangers come suddenly to live at a ranch where city manners are unknown, will turn things upside-down, you know.
But you see, Maw, the teacher offers to help me with lessons so I can pass for High School in the fall, Polly reminded her mother.
I can do as much for you, dear, without the care of strangers, remonstrated Mrs. Brewster, who would not commit herself until she had had time to weigh all things carefully.
Then I s'pose you intend refusing this request! pouted the disappointed girl.
I wish to think over the situation most wisely before we reply to the letter. Now finish your dinner and do the dishes. I am going to take my mending to the side porch.
Polly did as she was told but her imagination strayed to Denver and Chicago, as she tried to picture Barbara and Eleanor Maynard with Anne Stewart, visiting Pebbly Pit that summer. Meantime, Mrs. Brewster considered the pros and cons of the problem. If this Anne Stewart proved to be the sort of wife John needed, it would be advisable to have her know her future family-in-law. If she was not desirable, it would be discovered during the weeks she lived under the same roof with John's mother. But should it transpire that there was no cause for worry about John and this young teacher, she would still prove to be a good friend for Polly to know in case the child attended school in Denver the following term. Mrs. Brewster had almost decided to speak favorably to Polly of the plan, when the girl joined her on the porch.
Do you suppose Daddy will mind having so many young folks about the place—that is, if you will let them come?
I'm sure your Paw will be happy to give you pleasure, and you know how glad he is to have young people visiting here, rather than having you leave home to visit others, remarked Mrs. Brewster, slowly drawing the yarn through a hole in a sock.
While I washed the dishes, I wondered if he would say anything to you about the extra work, the three girls will make? said Polly, trying to "feel" her mother out.
That will be his main objection, I think. He had planned for me to visit my old friends in Denver, this summer, but this new departure will make it impossible for me to be away from here.
Oh, Maw, if you want to go away, don't let these girls spoil your plans! cried Polly, contritely.
I really had not thought of my own pleasure in visiting old friends at Denver, Polly, but I had planned to see about your residence this winter should you attend school there. I want you to board with a family that can offer you the proper atmosphere. If this young teacher proves to be nice, she will know all I needed to find out about the school and a boarding house, and I will not have to leave my beloved home at all.
Well, then, it all depends on what Daddy will say! cried Polly, joyously. "I do wish he'd hurry in."
He must have known your wishes, Polly; I see him coming towards the house, laughed Mrs. Brewster.
Polly leaned over the hand-rail of the porch to watch her father coming nearer and nearer. Then, when she thought he was in hailing distance, she shouted:
Daddy! Do hurry and hear the news—came in my letter! And the missive was waved back and forth to urge the rancher to greater speed.
Mr. Brewster reached the porch and whipped off his wide sombrero to mop his warm forehead. "Well, Maw, did Poll tell you about Noddy? Ah tell you! Our Polly is some doctor, all right!"
As the rancher chuckled over his words, Polly felt she had been guilty of neglect, for she had quite forgotten to ask how Noddy was. Mrs. Brewster smiled as she continued her darning.
Who's with Noddy now—did you give Jeb careful instructions, Paw? anxiously queried Polly.
Noddy's sleeping as peacefully as a babe, so you-all needn't worry any more. Now tell me all about the wonderful letter.
Sam, do you remember that golden-haired young lady from Denver, who took Miss Shalp's place at Bear Forks school for a few months? quickly asked Mrs. Brewster.
The note of anxiety in the query was not overlooked by the rancher, but he answered indifferently—to all appearances:
Shore thing, wife. Could any one forget such a nice girl in a hurry?
Well, Sam, the letter's from her—Anne Stewart is her name.
Don't tell him what! Let me read it, Maw! cried Polly.
So the letter was read again and the moment it was concluded Polly and Mrs. Brewster looked fearfully at Mr. Brewster, for they both expected violent objections from him.
But the rancher stood boring a hole with the toe of his boot down through the soft grass sod, while he seemed to study the cobbler's handiwork. After a few moments of tense silence, he looked up and laughed heartily.
Who'd have thought it, Mary? You, young looking enough to pass for a blushing bride but having a son old enough to think of a sweet-heart. And little Poll here, trying to bamboozle us to let her go away to school. Ah, well!
Polly gazed from father to mother and back again. "What has John got to do with this letter? Gracious, he isn't thinking of a wife, I hope!"
Her parents laughed at her perplexity, and Mr. Brewster explained satisfactorily to her question:
I was thinking of the four pretty girls we'd have at the ranch all summer, if John comes home to choose one of them.
Oh, Daddy! Then you'll have them come? cried Polly, at the same time jumping at her father to throw her arms about his neck.
On one condition—yes. That is: a gal to do the chores for Maw, so she can look after such a handful of trouble as three new ready-made daughters will make for her.
A hired girl! Why, Sam, how you talk. What could I ever do with help in such a small house? Besides, Anne Stewart says they will help with the work, objected Mrs. Brewster.
That's my only condition! You're not going to slave for a lot of city girls if I know it. Why, they won't know how to hold a kitchen knife, let alone cook for the family, replied Mr. Brewster.
I'll agree at once, Sam, because I know there isn't a girl or woman to hire within fifty miles of Oak Creek, laughed Mrs. Brewster.
Then Polly can answer the letter as she likes, and I will hunt up a gal. You said it: you'd agree to hire help if one can be found! quickly came from the rancher.
Sam, you took this occasion to have your own about hired help, laughed his wife, shaking her head deprecatingly.
You never would listen before, but now you've got to! said Mr.
Brewster, triumphantly.
Polly, you can run in and answer that letter as soon as you like, hinted Mrs. Brewster, and the girl eagerly obeyed.
While she wrote the answer over and over till it met with her approval, her parents exchanged confidences regarding John and this young teacher, but Polly never dreamed of such fears.
The letter that left Pebbly Pit the following day was the first thread woven in the warp and woof of two young lives—Eleanor Maynard in Chicago and Polly Brewster in the Rockies. Had the reply been other than it was, would these two girls have met and experienced the interesting schooldays, college years, and business careers that they enjoyed through becoming acquainted that summer at Pebbly Pit?
The letter sent from Pebbly Pit to Anne Stewart was forwarded by the latter to the Maynard girls in Chicago. It was eagerly read aloud to Mrs. Maynard by Barbara. Reaching the paragraph in the letter where Mrs. Brewster asked Anne Stewart if she thought five dollars a week for the board of each would be asking too much, Barbara dropped the sheet of paper and gasped. An expression of incredulity appeared on the faces of the mother and daughter, while Eleanor laughed outright.
Just fancy! Five dollars a week! she cried, throwing herself back on the cushions of the divan.
It must be a mistake! I trust it isn't meant for fifty a week! That is about the price a good hotel would charge, but I had hoped this place would be more reasonable. However, I am quite sure that figure five is a mistake; no one can possibly give meals at that rate, no matter how meager the fare may be! declared Mrs. Maynard.
The writing is plain enough and so is the figure '5,' mother, returned Barbara, referring again to the letter, then handing it to her mother.
Mrs. Maynard adjusted her lorgnette and studied the figure given. "It does seem to be five, without a doubt!" admitted she.
Oh, well! it really doesn't matter much what the price is just as long as we have a good time this summer! exclaimed Eleanor.
But, Nolla, dear, it does matter! Your father is dreadfully upset about our plans. He says my Newport season will cost far more than I fancied it would, and you two girls going to a mountain resort like this is an extra cost. He will have to be away all summer on important business connected with the bank, and that will cost extra money. Altogether, he feels anything but indifferent, sighed Mrs. Maynard, handing the letter back to Barbara.
Well, we are not responsible for father's worries over the bank's loans, but we are concerned about the style and quality of meals to be served at this Brewster place for five dollars a week, scorned Barbara.
I don't believe Anne Stewart would take us to a place where anything was horrid and cheap! She knows what's good as well as we do! defended Eleanor, who was eager to go to this mountain ranch.
Nolla is quite right, Bob. Anne is too particular to engage board in an undesirable house or hotel! added Mrs. Maynard.
Besides, these Brewsters have a farm, you know, and I suppose they raise lots of things that we have to pay such awful prices for—eggs, chickens, butter and vegetables, added Eleanor.
Mrs. Maynard and Barbara looked with admiration at the young girl, for that was an idea they had not thought of!
Of course, that's why they can board us so reasonably! Then, too, I suppose they do their own marketing for other items of food, such as delicacies and supplies from the baker's! It does make a difference in the accounts, you see, when one markets! ventured Barbara, glancing at her mother who never bothered about anything connected with the housekeeping—leaving it all for the servants to do.
Now, Bob, don't criticize your mother's methods. I can't drudge about the house and take charge of the Social Clubs and Welfare Work as well, complained Mrs. Maynard.
Of course not, Bob! Besides, mother never did know a good cut of beef from a poor one—they never taught domestic science in her day, you see, hurriedly interpolated Eleanor, hoping to waive a scene such as was a common occurrence between Barbara and her mother.
Nolla, are you sarcastic about my education? queried Mrs. Maynard, with dignity.
Mercy, no! I only tried to show Bob the difference in present day methods and the past.
Mr. Maynard entered the room during Eleanor's reply, and smiled as he heard his youngest daughter's frank words. It was a keen pleasure to him to have one child fearless in thought and word. His son and elder daughter had been spoiled by fawning tutors and companions, so they had acquired the habit of white-washing facts to suit the needs. Eleanor had been too delicate to attend any expensive and fashionable seminary and, being taught by Anne Stewart while in Denver, had acquired many of Anne's splendid ways.
"
Frederick, what do you know about this mountain resort you asked Anne Stewart to write about? asked Mrs. Maynard.
"Well, now that we are all together and have the time to talk this matter out, I will say my say, replied Mr. Maynard, seating himself and drawing Eleanor down beside him upon the divan.
You remember the first year we were married—I had to visit Bear Forks to investigate a loan one of our clients at the bank asked us to make on a tract of timber-land? You wouldn't go with me when you heard we would have to camp out at night and ride horses over rough mountain-trails. That is the season you visited your school-friend in the East.
Mr. Maynard looked at his wife as he spoke and she nodded her head as if the memory was not pleasant to recall. Her husband smiled an enigmatical smile and continued his description.
That is when I met Sam Brewster and his wife—they had been married about as long as we had, and their happy ranch-life struck me as being the most desirable existence I ever heard of.
Mrs. Maynard's lips curled in silent derision. She understood her husband's yearning for a simple life in place of the frivolous and empty excitement of the social career she had made for herself and family.
The country about the sections I visited is beautiful and healthy, and as Nolla is ordered to a quiet, mountainous region for a time, I know of no place so suitable. Besides, Anne Stewart has been there, too, and she is wild over the place.
But you are so old-fashioned in your ideas of living and pleasures, father, and I want to know if this place will suit me. Are the Brewsters members of the best set there, or will I be left absolutely unaided to find a way to meet young people such as we would like to know? asked Barbara, anxiously.
The Brewsters are by far the wealthiest family in that whole section of country, and I have heard that the ranch and house are the finest in the state. You met young John Brewster at the College Prom and you can tell what you think of him.
Ye-es, young Brewster is all right. Every one seemed to think he is exceptionally nice, remarked Barbara.
Mrs. Maynard sighed with relief as she felt that a weight had been lifted from her mind. She was anxious to have her two daughters climb the social ladder to a higher plane than she had been able to reach, so she knew they must be careful to associate with only those who had already arrived there through forbears or ambition.
Then we can wire Anne at once to complete arrangements, Frederick? ventured the lady, watching her husband's expression.
I'll attend to that but when can you be ready to go? asked Mr.
Maynard, glancing from one to the other of the trio.
The same day you start, Daddy! declared Eleanor, giving her father a hug.
Why, we simply can't, Nolla! Father leaves Chicago next week and we have so much to prepare before going to a place where we are apt to meet the very elite of society, cried Barbara.
"
It will take fully two weeks to go through the girls' wardrobe, Frederick, and see that everything is the last word, added Mrs.
"Maynard, explanatory of her eldest daughter's dismay.
Well, fix things up any way you say, but I'm off for the bank when you begin talking dress, laughed Mr. Maynard.
Now, Frederick, don't leave us like this! You know we will need money to fit out the girls, and then you must have some idea of when Anne can expect them in Denver, hurriedly said Mrs. Maynard as her husband crossed the room to leave.
Daddy, I don't want another thing to wear; I've got so many things now that it makes me tired to keep changing to suit the thousand and one occasions, declared Eleanor, running after her father to kiss him good-by.
Nolla! I declare you will never grow up! Pray walk like a lady when you cross a room, won't you? complained Barbara.
Eleanor smiled up at her father and he pinched her thin cheek as he stooped to kiss her. Then, he waved his hand at the others and left the room. Once outside the door and safely out of hearing he chuckled to himself.
Bob pictures a gay resort with troops of male admirers to play tennis and dance away the hours with. She is thinking of dress to captivate her 'moths,' but Nolla is thinking of the rural pleasures she has heard me describe to her. If Bob knew the truth, she'd never go, and poor little Nolla would lose the most wonderful opportunity of her young life. I'd best not prejudice Bob or mother, but just pay the bills for finery and whims and bide my time.
Soon after arriving at his bank-office he sent a message to Anne Stewart at Denver, advising her to engage the rooms at the Brewster home. As an afterthought, he added that he was anxious to have Eleanor get away about the time he left home for his trip.
That afternoon he carried home the reply from Anne Stewart: "Have engaged rooms and board from next week on. Wire when to expect you at Denver. Anne."
Mrs. Maynard had heard from her friends that day that their plans were changed and now they expected to leave Chicago sooner than she had thought. This made her agree quickly to having her daughters start the following week.
But, mother, it can't be done. I need a riding habit, and tennis clothes, and a few new afternoon gowns and evening dresses! remonstrated Barbara.
You had a new habit last fall, Bob, Eleanor said.
But it has a long coat and full bloomers. No one is wearing that style, now. Everything is mannish coats and tight knickerbockers, argued Barbara.
I will call up the tailor at once, girls, and have him give us the preference over other work, Mrs. Maynard replied.
Not for me! I don't like the tight habits. I shall take my bloomer one, replied Eleanor, decidedly.
Dear me, Nolla! You don't seem to care a fig about your appearance. What will become of you when it is time for you to make your debut? sighed Mrs. Maynard, despondently.
I'm not going to do anything so silly—I'm going into business when I grow up!
Oh!
Nolla!
Mother and sister could hardly gasp the words as they turned shocked eyes in the direction of Mr. Maynard who had been writing out checks for his family. He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily at the independence of his youngest child.
Frederick! Now you see what comes of your petting Nolla whenever she says or does anything dreadful! exclaimed Mrs. Maynard.
Is business so dreadful, then? Anne Stewart seems all right, and she is earning her living, ventured Eleanor.
I wash my hands of you, after this, Eleanor! If you do anything so unheard of as you threaten, no one will keep up with you, declared Barbara, sternly.
They'll have to travel mighty fast to keep up with me, Bob, once I am of age and start in business, laughed Eleanor.
That will do, young lady! Remember you are only fourteen, and business is a long time off for you! Mrs. Maynard remarked.
Then Eleanor hung over the back of her father's chair twisting the iron-gray hair into ridiculous points while her mother and Barbara forgot her presence and planned many fetching gowns for the summer campaign. Both were fair examples of modern society and its aims, and they sacrificed many worth-while plans and pleasures upon the altar of their fickle goddess. So it followed that the fashionable tailors, the modiste and the lingerie-maker stitched and fitted and clipped, on beautiful materials and trimmings, until everything was ready for Barbara's summer victory. Eleanor steadfastly refused to be annoyed by having new clothes made, so her trunk was packed with the wardrobe she already had on hand.
Of course, Nolla's appearance is not of as much consequence as yours, Bob, as she still is so young and delicate. It is different with you, however, and I'm so glad you are sensible to appreciate what a difference clothes make, said Mrs. Maynard, resignedly, as the seven trunks were packed and waiting for the expressman.
I'm glad your fussing is over at last. If you had much more to sew and fit we never would get away! grumbled Eleanor, watching the man stagger as he carried the heavy trunks downstairs.
Well, I'll soon be reaping the benefit of my patience and you'll be sorry you were so indifferent over your looks, retorted Barbara, turning away from the window once her five trunks were safely on the express wagon.
Girls, you're sure everything that Celeste wrote down on the list is packed? Your complexion cream in case of freckles or tan—and the shampoo mixture for the hair-dresser to use? Tell him I never allow you to use ready-made preparations on your hair.
Yes, mother, all the toilet articles are in the small trunk, and the few extra things were packed in Eleanor's trunk because she had a corner with nothing to fill in it, explained Barbara.
Thank goodness we can eat dinner and go to bed to-night without being served styles and fits! sighed Eleanor, not meaning to be irreverent at her mother's gospel.
Anne Stewart had not mentioned the need of mountain-shoes and good plain clothing in her letters to the Maynards, because Mr. Maynard particularly requested her to delete such items. Anne was bright at reading minds and smiled as she surmised the reason for the restriction. She knew Eleanor would glory in old clothes and a good time, but would Barbara be so willing to visit Pebbly Pit farm if she knew the truth about the environment?
Anne's single steamer trunk was filled with sensible clothes and the toilet articles she knew she would need for the summer. Then she wired the Maynards to say all was waiting to hear from them. And Barbara wired back that they would meet her at the Denver Terminal Station at the day and time agreed upon.
Meantime, great preparations were under way at Pebbly Pit. John's room had to be cleaned and rearranged for the young ladies. While Polly and her mother planned the work, Mr. Brewster made a thorough search of the countryside in hopes of finding a suitable maid-servant for his wife and Polly.
Most ranchers need their daughters at home, and as there are no really poor or poverty-stricken families in those farming sections, the task of finding a servant was not an easy one. And Mr. Brewster realized what it meant, when he read in the papers how difficult a problem it was becoming—this servant-girl question!
At last, as he was about to despair of ever finding any one, he stopped in at the Oak Creek Post Office to see if there was any mail. Here he met a rancher-friend from the Yellow Jacket Pass region.
How-thar, Sam! called Jim Sattler, heartily.
How-do yourself, Jim! returned Mr. Brewster, catching hold of Jim's hardened hand and shaking it back and forth.
You-all air a sight for sore eyes, Sam! Hain't seen hide nor hair of any one of you for nigh onto a year! Be'n keepin' pritty busy, Sam? said Jim, in a voice that rolled forth like deep thunder.
Mighty busy, Jim! John's away to college, you know, and now my leetle chick thinks she can scratch for herself, too. She's bound to go to school, in Denver, this coming fall.
Sam, nuthin' like it, these days! A man or woman has to have ddication to rassle with livin'! Let her go to it, says Ah! It won't be long afore my boys'll be goin' away, too!
That's what brings me here to-day. Ah have been hunting for some kind of a gal to help the missus this summer and to have her broken in by the time Polly leaves home, explained Sam Brewster.
Git one?
Not yet! It seems they're as scarce as hen's teeth. Ah never dreamed it would be such a job to hunt one up, or Ah doubt if Ah'd have consented to have those girls come and summer with us.
See har, Sam! Ah bet Ah knows just the woman for you-all, ef you-all ain't lookin' for a young gal with a figger like a wisp of hay.
Polly's wisp enough for one ranch! So Ah'm not looking for style but stock. Do you-all know one, Jim?
Ah do that! Sary Dodd's her name. You know Bill Dodd, don't yuh—he never 'mounted to much as a rancher.
Seems to me Ah do! The name's familiar, anyway. Did he come from Yellow Jacket Pass way? asked Mr. Brewster, scratching his neck, thoughtfully.
The same! Wall, he died an' left Sary with nothing but funeral costs. She had to sell that measly ranch that Bill held a quarter interest in to pay bills, and now she hain't got nawthin' but her health. Better see Sary, Sam.
It was the dawn of hope for Mr. Brewster. Since starting on his self-appointed search, he had been growing more and more despondent of success. Now he urged his horse towards Yellow Jacket Pass to find Sary Dodd.
After seeking at various ranches for the elusive Sary, he located her. But she was not elusive looking. She was six feet in height and would tip the scales easily at two hundred pounds.
Are you widow Dodd? Jim Sattler sent me to see if you-all would like a place to live out? We-all have company for the summer and my wife needs help, explained Sam Brewster.
Sary beamed and exchanged polite introductions. "You-all tuk me clar off my feet, Mr. Brewster. Yes, Ah did think some of goin' in a reel good fam'ly to wuk, but nawthin' come up fer me, so Ah'm visitin' the neighbors. Do you-all want me immijit?"
The rancher saw that Sary was over-anxious to accept his offer of a place, but he was not the man to take advantage of her in financial matters. So he replied:
Ah s'pose we ought to fix the wage, but Mrs. Brewster wants some one at once, and you-all can settle salary when you-all get there.
"
Ah've heerd tell what a square man you-all was, Mr. Brewster, an' now Ah knows it! Suspicious moisture filled Sary's eyes as she spoke.
"Ah've won a way by being honest in all my dealings, for it pays in the end. But tell me—can you come along?
Ef you-all kin wait, Ah'll tie up my bundle in a minit! agreed Sary, anxiously.
All right! But don't waste any time packing your ball-gowns, Sary, laughed Mr. Brewster, facetiously, as the load of trouble rolled from his heart. Sary was soon perched beside the rancher on the high spring seat of the lumbering ranch-wagon, tenderly holding a half-dead rubber plant. On that drive, her host heard more of every family history of the ranchers for miles around than he had ever dreamed of knowing even if he lived to be a hundred.
Sary Dodd arrived at the ranch-house the day before the visitors were expected. Mrs. Brewster and Polly were in the midst of a light house-cleaning as the strangers must not find a speck of dust anywhere!
Maw, here's Sary Dodd! Ah got her to help! shouted Sam Brewster, pulling up his horse by the side of the porch.
Sary Dodd! Oh, Sary, I'm right glad to see you! Come in, won't you? greeted Mrs. Brewster, coming to the door.
Just in time, Mrs. Dodd, to help me shove this press in to the spare room, added Polly, arresting her work to smile at the new-comer.
Give Sary time to lay off her bonnet, child! reproved Mrs. Brewster, pulling out a rocker for the widow.
Laws me! What'cher doin'—a-cleanin' house agin! cried Sary, leaning against the door-frame panting for breath.
Winded, Sary? Ah told you-all Ah'd carry that heavy box from the wagon. But no! exclaimed Mr. Brewster.
Polly was over by the door by this time, and she stooped to carry the box indoors.
Goodness! What's in the box to make it so heavy?
Chil', that box hol's all my treasures on arth! Some few things Bill lef me, our fam'iy album, an' my gran'mother's pieces of reel silver—four plated! And mos' of all, the Brittania cake basket Bill gave me on our annerversary! explained Sary, pathetically, as she dabbed a black cotton glove at her dewy eyes.
Sam, take the team to the barn and leave Sary with us. We'll soon have her feeling at home, said Mrs. Brewster, seeing a frown coming over her lord and master's face, as he wondered if his home-life was to be shadowed by a sorrowing widow!
The moment Mr. Brewster left for the barn, his wife returned to the "help," who had plumped herself down into the wooden Boston rocker and was fanning herself vigorously with a newspaper.
Let me remove your bonnet, Sary, offered Mrs. Brewster kindly, taking the twisted black strings to undo the knot that was tightly tied under a heavy double chin.
Ah declar t' goodness, Miss Brewster, ef you-all hain't too good! Ah'll jest set t' git my second wind, an' then Ah'll tek right hol' of things! gasped Sary.
Don't hurry yourself. Just cool off and then you'll feel better after such a long ride. Shall I send Polly to the spring-house for some cold milk? asked the lady of the house, folding the flimsy crepe token of Sary's state of widowhood.
G'wan now, Miss Brewster—I'm no infant! scoffed Sary. "Don' cher know a fat bein' mustn't tech milk 'cause it's more fattenin'?"
The hostess refrained from giving her opinion, but she busied herself with unpinning the rusty black plush cape that the widow had donned when she began her journey to new surroundings. Being quite rested by this time, Sary gripped a hold on each arm of the rocker and managed to hoist her bulky form out from the too close embrace of the senseless wooden arms.
Now ef Polly er you-all 'll show me what to bunk, Ah ricken Ah'll change my Sunday-best an' pitch inter work, said the willing help.
Polly, you drag the box in while I show Sary her room, called Mrs. Brewster, coming to the door that opened from the living-room directly into John's chamber—now to be a guest room.
In the wild mountain regions of the Rockies, where maids are unheard of, and the "hotels" provide the most primitive service, the house-wives have little concern over the perplexing question of "help" as experienced in large cities.
If it is necessary to assist a neighbor who is marrying off a daughter and wants to provide her with a trousseau, a sewing-bee is arranged and ranchers' families for miles around drive in and visit. Quilts, sheets, and other necessities are quickly stitched and neatly folded out of the way by the women, while the men occupy themselves with work about the place until it is time for the grand dinner.
The same neighborly help is offered in other emergencies, so that few families want servants. At the same time, help has not been looked down upon as menial work by the ranchers, and so the "help" lives as a member of the family that happens to secure one.
In cases such as Sary Dodd's, where a woman is left penniless and another woman needs her practical aid, the two meet half-way and the kitchen atmosphere is serene. Quite different is the case in cities, however.
Sary felt she was the social equal to any rancher's wife, for had she not been mistress of a ranch, too—even though it was never paid for. So she felt she was doing the Brewsters a favor by sharing their home and work, even while she admitted the obligation she was under of being provided with bed and board.
The tiny room allotted to the widow was directly back of the kitchen L. It had a single window that gave a fine view of Rainbow Cliffs, but the furniture was of the plainest. Sary took in the simplicity in one glance and then turned to her mistress.
Ah've hear'n tell how Sam Brewster kin buy er sell th' hull township, ef he likes, Miss Brewster, ventured Sary, slyly.
But the mistress had heard of Sary's proneness to gossip and so replied: "We don't consider wealth worth anything unless you know what to do with it. We live as comfortably as we like, and try to use what is left in helping others."
Sary made no reply to this statement, but watched Mrs. Brewster go to the window and pull on the cord that was stretched at one side of the window-frame. Instantly, the decorated window-shade pulleyed up to allow more light to shine into the room.
Now Ah see how that wu'ks! cried Sary, delightedly.
Mrs. Brewster turned with a questioning look in her eyes.
Sary explained. "Cal Lorrimer tol' me like-es-how them winder shades wu'ked but Ah jest coulden' see it."
Mrs. Brewster laughed and Sary ventured to pulley the shade herself. She drew it up and down several times and then turned to express her sentiments to her mistress.
My, but yuh're ferchunit t' have all seeh new-fangled idees in the house! It clean locoes me t' think Ah'm livin' wid sech fine contraptions. And Sary pressed her large freckled, hands over her sparse red hair to signify how "locoed" her brain really was.
Mrs. Brewster laughed merrily. "Why, Sary, since I left Denver, my friends all have shades in the windows that run up and down on springs without any other help. They go by themselves."
Now, Miss Brewster! Do you believe that fairy-tale? quizzed Sary, looking keenly at her mistress to see if she was trying to laugh at her ignorance of city-life.
It is a fact, Sary—not a fairy-tale. My friend has them all through her house, and I expect to replace these pulleys with spring rollers, some day.
Sary passed her hand over the lustra design on the shade and Mrs. Brewster turned to leave the room. Before she closed the door, she said: "I'm going to start dinner, Sary. When you are ready you can join me in the kitchen."
The moment the mistress was gone, Sary ran to make sure the door was securely closed. Then she turned to inspect the belongings of the room. "Huh! the press ain't so much—plain deal painted brown."
The press was passed by the scornful occupant of the room, and the bed next came under her appraising eye.
Th' bed's soft wood, too, but it feels comfertible.
Sary sat on the bed and bounced up and down to test the springs and mattress before she pulled back the covers to examine the quality of filling in the ticking.
Laws! It hain't corn-husks, a-tall! It's soft as down!
Inborn curiosity compelled her to take a hairpin and rip open a bit of the seam. To her amazement she pulled out a tangle of long whitish hair.
Of all things! And this is what I hev to sleep on! ejaculated the insulted maid. "Wall, we'll see about that!"
The sheets and newly patched quilt were designated as "ornery" but the printed spread, patterned to imitate blue torchon lace, drew a murmur of admiration from the woman. Sary quickly changed her robe of mourning to a calico house-dress and went out, determined to speak her mind about that awful mattress! She never thought such a rich man's house would have so common a thing as "combin's"—even if it was in the "help's" tick!
But the wonderful odor of boiling cabbage made her forget her complaint for the time being. She went to the stove and lifted a lid from the large kettle. She sniffed audibly.
Um! Ah loves cabbige soup, Miss Brewster!
"
Do you, Sary—so does Mr. Brewster. If you will watch the meat frying, I will blow the horn to call the men to dinner.
"Mrs. Brewster waited until Sary began thickening the gravy, then she took the horn and stood upon the door-step, blowing it several times. It was then hung back of the kitchen door again.
Polly! Come now, dear, and wash up for dinner, called Mrs. Brewster, standing in the doorway that led to the family living-room.
Presently, the family, augmented by Sary, sat down in the kitchen for dinner. Jeb, the hired man, had followed in after his master, and had been introduced to the new help; he now watched her capable hands and arms as she swung the soup-kettle from the stove.
Just a moment, Sary! whispered Mrs. Brewster, warningly.
Sary looked around in surprise and saw the others with bowed heads, waiting for her to get rid of the pot and fold her hands. It took her but half a second to understand and follow the leading.
The ranchers of the Rocky Mountains and plains are most orthodox church folk. They would as soon steal or murder as to miss "meetin'," or work on a Sunday. And most of them have regular family prayers and long services at home whenever opportunity offers.
Sam Brewster was not one of the latter kind but the longer the grace he said, the better a man he thought he was. In every other way, so liberal and kind, it was not consistent for him to act so narrow-minded regarding religion.
Once the grace was said, the host unfolded his napkin and looked to Sary for the soup. The soup-pot had been taken up the second time and was about to be placed in the middle of the table where every one could serve themselves as they wished, but Mrs. Brewster gave her a look and sign that was incomprehensible. She was confused for once in her life.
I'll serve the soup this noon, Sary, and you can pass the plates, remarked Mrs. Brewster, seeing her maid did not understand.
And now Sary beheld a new order of things! Soup that was dipped into plates and passed until each member at table had a dish before him. Large white napkins that were not tied about the neck but spread over the lap! How funny it seemed that the small red-flowered squares Sary had been accustomed to when company came were nowhere in evidence.
As the meal progressed, Sary's wonderment increased; she failed to hear familiar sounds of eating, nor saw the usual form of plying knife and fork together.
Immediately after dinner, Polly led her mother to John's room. "Maw, I'm going to use those new shades I bought for your Christmas gift, and put them at the windows of the girls' room."
Oh, Polly, don't you think plain white ones will look nicer? quickly replied Mrs. Brewster, as she beheld the pea-green Holland decorated with monster bronze roses and huge butterflies.
Polly felt disconcerted for the moment as she realized that her mother's tone implied disapproval of the change. But she would not admit that possibly the white would improve the bed-room.
"
Why, Maw, you know how much I paid for those shades last Christmas. The man in Oak Creek said they were the grandest ones in Denver!
"Maybe he thought so, Polly, but we must remember that his taste in art has lacked cultivation. Now I prefer pure white shades, or curtains, for a bed-room window, said wise Mrs. Brewster, leaving her daughter to wonder whether she liked pure white for the living-room, also.
But Polly had enough human will and stubbornness in her make-up to resist the suggestion offered by her experienced mother. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do, Maw: I'll just put these lovely shades up till after the girls see them, then we'll change to white. I think it will be best to keep these new and clean for the front room, but I want the city girls to know we've got such expensive things in the house."
Polly dear, that is foolish. I have always tried to teach you otherwise. What matters it, whether you display gorgeous 'feathers' if the thing be false? Simplicity and wisdom are the rarest adornments of a home.
There you go again, Maw, lecturing me with your wise old saws, laughed Polly, jumping upon the chair to fit the shades in place.
Mrs. Brewster smiled but said nothing. She knew how soon her child would learn good from bad, once she came in contact with strangers. And so well had the mother grounded her daughter that she had no qualms about the result of any contacts.
Mrs. Brewster watched while Polly finished the placing of the dreadful shades, then she looked about at the colored prints tacked upon every available spot of rough plaster-walls. Her brow puckered at the conglomeration of subjects and sizes of the chromos, but she knew how carefully Polly had saved every one of them that had arrived with tea or soap, so she passed no audible judgment.
Oh, Maw! I have another great idea! cried Polly, jumping from the chair and clapping her hands.
Yes?
Let's move Daddy's sofa into the bedroom and place it at the foot of the bed, just like the pictures in the Farm Journal show us! Then we won't have to have the single bed brought in from the barn—Anne can sleep on the bed-lounge.
I really think Anne Stewart will prefer a bed, Polly, even if it is small, gasped Mrs. Brewster hastily.
Then we'll change later. It won't take a minute to move the sofa in and it will look so citified to the girls who most likely have divans or sofas in their bedrooms at home.
I think they will like the difference—not having their country bedroom look like the city one. A complete change always is better than a similar environment, especially if the city rooms are more artistically furnished than the result of our efforts.
"
Now, Maw, don't you want me to surprise them with the sofa John gave Paw and you, long ago? I'm sure they won't hurt it, coaxed Polly.
"Oh, I'm not thinking of any damage. I was wondering how Anne would like to sleep on a folding sofa instead of in a bed.
She won't mind; and she'll be glad to see her friends impressed by the bedroom furniture, quickly explained Polly.
Well, then, call Sary to help you shove it in, while I go and find those braided mats we made last winter, said Mrs. Brewster in a tone of resignation.
Polly needed no second consent, but ran out to call Sary. The sofa was soon wheeled from the chimney-nook into the bedroom which adjoined the living-room at the back. Once it was placed at the foot of the heavy walnut bed, Polly whipped off the cretonne covering that always hid the hideous plush-carpet upholstery.
As the slip-cover came off and revealed the red and green and purple design, Polly glanced at Sary to see the effect made.
Oh, laws! Ah never see'd sech a sofy! Ain't it grand? breathed Sary, lost in admiration.
Sary, it opens, too! announced Polly, condescendingly pulling at the strap that moved the spring to turn the half into a low bed.
Well, suhs! What next? Yoh Paw must be a milyonaire, shore!
No, Sary; John saved his money for selling chickens and a calf, and got this for Paw and Maw, when he went to high school in Denver. Oh, we had an awful time carting it from Oak Creek to Pebbly Pit through all the snow and weather! explained Polly.
Mrs. Brewster laughed at the remembrance but told Polly that she hoped she would keep the cover on the sofa.
You don't mean me to cover up the velvet, do you? asked Polly, aghast at the suggestion.
Perhaps Anne will sleep better if the flowers are out of sight, remarked Mrs. Brewster, softly, but with amused sarcasm.
You-all mought better do that, Miss Pollee, cuz them colors will git sun-streaked in this bright light, added Sary.
I am not worrying about the fade, Sary, but over the fact that the young teacher and her friends will think we prefer such crude articles of furniture, instead of tolerating them just because my dear children denied themselves to give us pleasure. It is their motive and delight that we all felt in the gifts, more than the objects which showed immature judgment, explained Mrs. Brewster, slowly and thoughtfully.
Polly was silenced and she suddenly realized how far she must climb before she knew as much as her mother—even though she studied "Art Notes" in the monthly magazines that reached the ranch.
I wonder if the harsh color Maw speaks of is the real cause of that cretonne cover always being over the sofa? wondered the girl to herself. But she said nothing and the sofa was left at the foot of the great bed.
Mrs. Brewster knew she had said much, so she left the room and beckoned Sary to follow her to the kitchen. Polly silently proceeded with the finishing touches to the room.
She hung a painted-framed mirror over the wash-stand. The glass was greenish in hue and wavy in lines, but it looked like a reflector and so it remained in position. An enameled basin and earthen jug did duty for toilet purposes. The plain deal chairs were decorated with crocheted tidies—one tied to the back of each chair. And last, but not least, came the treasure of the Brewster family. It had been preserved in paper wrappings and lavender for many years, and now and then the mistress of the ranch-house removed it and hung it out to keep the folds from turning yellow.
There now! When they see this knitted cotton spread with its raised roses and lilies, those girls will know that we can have wonderful things here as well as there.
So saying, Polly spread out the thick white quilt until the large double-bed was smoothly covered. Then she stood back and sighed with gratification at the result of her afternoon's work.
There now! I'll just call Maw before I close up the room, murmured
Polly, skipping away to look for Mrs. Brewster.
Sary followed closely after the mistress, as Polly led the triumphal march to the guest-chamber. The door was flung open and the ladies asked to admire.
Polly, something told me that you would get the spread out of the chest, declared Mrs. Brewster, patting her daughter gently. "And your god-mother would be so pleased if she were here to see how you honored her work. Some day, these quaint old-fashioned spreads and patch-work quilts will become quite the rage again, and then you will feel proud to show yours. I think Anne will appreciate the endless task such a spread represents."
And once more Polly felt that she had not expressed her interior decorating ideals on the same high plane her mother seemed to have reached, but she would not admit having made a mistake, so the crocheted spread remained, even as the green shades and the gay sofa remained, to welcome the city girls to Pebbly Pit.
The time set for the meeting of the Maynard girls and Anne Stewart at the Denver Terminal Station came and passed with no sign of the Chicago travelers. Then Mrs. Stewart was seen hurrying down the platform waving a yellow envelope to attract her daughter's attention.
Anne was patiently seated on the edge of a truck looking keenly at every one in sight, so she soon saw her mother. The Oak Creek local, that left Denver daily at noon, was getting up enough steam to enable it to make a regular start. Whether it would arrive was a question!
Anne hastily tore the telegram open and read it aloud. "Missed train. Don't wait for us. Go on and send machine to meet us to-morrow, same train, at Oak Creek. Explain to Brewsters. Bob."
Anne looked at her mother and laughed. "If that isn't Bob all over!
Guess her hair wasn't dressed."
Do they think the Brewsters run a limousine, or do they mean a sewing-machine? asked Mrs. Stewart, guilelessly.
Anne laughed again at her mother's innocent expression, but Mrs. Stewart added: "I told you no good would come of transplanting hot-house flowers to an old-fashioned roundel."
I can picture Bob Maynard hiking from Oak Creek Station to Pebbly Pit—most likely she will wear French heeled shoes! said Anne, and she laughed so merrily that waiting passengers in the dingy cars glanced from the tiny windows and felt better for the contagious laughter.
Oh, my dear! You won't think of making those city girls start training with such a hard lesson, will you? cried Mrs. Stewart, who understood the reason Mr. Maynard had for this outing.
Bless your dear heart, no! I'll send the wagon for them, but I wondered what would happen in case they had to walk!
Well, I'm thankful I'm not in Mr. Maynard's shoes when those girls find out what they will have to do without all summer.
Nolla will be in her glory— began Anne, when the conductor hurried over to the two women.
Going by this train, ladies?
Good-by, mother. I'll write all about the reception, laughed Anne, hurriedly kissing her mother and giving her a hug.
All aboard! shouted the brakeman, as the tardy passenger mounted the steep steps and waved her hand at Mrs. Stewart.
It was a ride of about seventy miles and Anne thoroughly enjoyed reviewing every landmark as she passed it by. Jeb stood waiting at the little station of Oak Creek, his mouth and eyes wide open as he watched the train pull in—always an exciting time for the farmhand.
The cumbersome ranch-wagon, with its high spring-seat, was drawn up beside a telegraph pole to which the skittish young horses had been securely tied. Anne went over to meet Jeb, and said, with a smile:
Were you waiting for some ladies for the Brewsters? I am Anne Stewart, the teacher who used to be at Bear Forks school.
Ya-as'm! How-dee! Hain't you-all got unny more comin'?
Not to-day. They missed their train and expect to be here on to-morrow's noon-train. What is your name, may I ask?
Jeb, laconically replied the man, looking about as if he still missed a necessary item for the return trip.
Oh! I guess you want my baggage. It's that small trunk over by the box-car, explained Anne, and Jeb grinned with relief.
As he carried the trunk lightly as if it were a stick, Anne remarked:
It's too bad to make you take this trip again to-morrow.
Not so-es you-all kin notice it! To-morrer is pay-day fer the miners, en Oak Crick is a lively town, them times, explained Jeb, winking an eye to show what fun he expected to have next day.
Then it's a lucky thing for you, Jeb, that my friends missed the train to-day.
Jes' so! chuckled Jeb, as he gathered up the reins and snacked the whip over his horses' heads.
Conversation lagged after the start, for the bumping and rumbling of the heavy wagon as it went over rocks and ruts in the rough trail, forced all the breath from the passenger's lungs.
The wagon drew up beside the porch of the ranch-house and Anne found the family waiting to receive them. She jumped from her perch and greeted Polly, then smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Brewster as the girl introduced her. Even Sary felt flattered at the kindly greeting accorded her by this pretty school-teacher.
Wh-hy—you are all alone! gasped Polly.
Then Anne explained about the telegram just as her train was about to leave Denver. The looks of blank surprise changed to relief as the family heard the cause of the other two girls' non-appearance. They all entered the house together, delighted with each other. Mrs. Brewster felt that she was going to like this girl.
Anne was delighted with the place and everything in connection with it. Even the intense coloring of the sofa or the pea-green shades failed to disturb her peace and repose that night.
After the supper dishes had been cleared away, Mrs. Brewster led the way to the wide terrace that stretched from the porch to the descent of the crater. Here the group watched the sunset, and became better acquainted. By bedtime, Mrs. Brewster was of the opinion that any man excepting John, who got Anne Stewart for a wife was very fortunate, indeed! John was still a superior being.
The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Brewster said to Jeb: "Ah have to look after some business in Oak Creek, to-day, Jeb, so you need not drive over for the girls. Ah will stop at the station and look them up."
Mebbe you-all'd better take me to hist the trunks, es Ah am young and hearty, ventured Jeb, anxiously.
You! Why, Jeb, Ah can turn you over with my small finger, laughed Mr.
Brewster, comparing his tall muscular frame with that of small slim
Jeb's.
So Jeb slouched away to look after his master's farm work as well as his own, and as he worked he grumbled and thought of the fun and frolics the "fellers" in Oak Creek were having on their pay-day.
At the Denver station, two girls dressed in the latest modes, walked along the platform toward a line of railway coaches.
What dirty-looking cars. Can these be right? said Barbara Maynard.
And the younger girl, Eleanor, replied: "I suppose they burn soft coal."
Well, they shouldn't! Everything we have on will be covered with soot before we reach the town.
That will mean more business for the dry-cleaners at Oak Creek, laughed Eleanor. Had she known that the place could not boast of any kind of a cleaning establishment, she would have laughed louder and longer at the novelty.
I suppose this Oak Creek is the shopping center for all the smaller villages that are within motoring distance of it, surmised Barbara.
I suppose so, agreed Eleanor, as she watched a man oil the wheels under the engine.
The man finished the work and straightened up. His face and hands were black from grease and oil and soot, but he smiled a friendly smile at the young ladies who were obviously waiting to board his train.
She's all made up, leddies, ef you-all wants to git in.
Mercy! Does he have to grin as if he were an old friend when he announces the fact? complained Barbara, daintily picking her way between boxes and bags of freight.
He's a genuine western type, laughed Eleanor, following her sister into the coach.
Goodness gracious! Are we expected to sit on these old dusty plush seats? cried Barbara, whipping the upholstery with her tiny handkerchief before she seated herself.
Again Eleanor laughed but she was not as merry as when she jumped from the Pullman that morning.
Quite different were the sensations of the two city girls, to those of Anne Stewart, as they passed over the same route and saw the same country. Perhaps it was the difference in training more than the ideals of the three girls.
Nolla, can all the houses be as horrid as those we have passed by? asked Barbara, nodding at a group of log-houses.
I don't know, but they certainly are smaller than the homes in Chicago, aren't they? rejoined Eleanor, gazing in open curiosity at the scenery and buildings so different from that of the city.
Smaller! Why, they are simply poverty-stricken in looks! exclaimed
Barbara in disgust.
The nearer the train came to Oak Creek, the smaller and rougher the houses seemed, until the guard called out:
Oak Crick! Here's your station!
The girls gazed at each other in consternation, for the place was little more than a rough mining settlement, or ranch-town.
The brakeman caught up the leather bags and jumped from the slowing train. He planked them down regardless of contents, and ran off to the station. It was an old discarded box-car shoved on a siding to do duty as ticket-office and freight station.
The girls hurried out to the car platform and Barbara asked: "Nolla, why don't you call the porter?"
They never had one on this line! Then stepping down side-ways from the high narrow steps of the train, Eleanor cried:
Gracious! Do catch me if I fall!
Barbara stared about as a frozen horror slowly crept into her soul and was expressed in her eyes. "Was this the lovely mountain resort for which she had planned such conquests?"
Eleanor spied the precious bags too close to the tracks to insure their safety, so she rushed over to save them from disaster—for who could tell whether that shaky old train would hold together much longer!
But the Local looked worse than it really was. It was as reliable a set of old cars as could be found, even if the paint and polish had vanished with age. Just as the bags were recovered, the whistle tooted, the wheels grated in turning, and the train that on its return trip to Denver, might have carried these girls back to their kind of civilization, slowly pulled out of sight.
Eleanor struggled with the two well-filled bags of toilet accessories, and deposited them before her sister. "Bet you everything is broken, and our house-dresses ruined with perfume!"
As Barbara made no reply, Eleanor followed the direction of her stare. A group of dreadful looking miners and a crowd of wild-looking cow-punchers were using seven expensive wardrobe trunks for their pleasure.
Evidently the men had indulged in too many tests of Oak Creek whiskey, called "Pizen" by the natives. The cow-boys were picturesque enough in their wide sombreros, woolly chaps, gay shirts, and a swagger that matched their trick of shooting. The miners were swarthy, bearded foreigners, who wore long boots, loose shirts, and belts from which ugly-looking six-shooters protruded.
As Eleanor decided to go over to the circle surrounding the trunks, and demand an explanation she heard a hardened miner shout: "It's my deal next!"
Then the sisters saw that their largest trunk had been turned over on its side to make a convenient card-table. The others accommodated the players and loungers whose spurred heels beat a tattoo upon the polished grain-leather covers.
Humph! At least we can display original etchings on our trunks when we get them back home, remarked Eleanor, with a gleam of amusement at the affair.
Everything will simply be ruined! Just see that trunk holding my evening-dresses—right by that horse-trough. Do make those awful creatures go away, won't you, Nolla? begged Barbara.
With those nasty guns sticking from their belts—not me! But I'll go to the office and complain to the baggage-master.
So Eleanor courageously turned her back on the fascinating sight of all those revolvers, and Barbara followed closely at her sister's heels; both of them hurried to the old car that displayed a sign saying it was the baggage-room. No one was there, so the girls stood at the door, whence the road leading to the railway could be seen.
If only we knew when the chauffeur would come! sighed Barbara, but now Eleanor had misgivings about an automobile.
Meantime the men had seen the two strangers hovering about but they were not aware that the trunks belonged to the new-comers. When the girls entered the "station" one old rascal leaned over and said:
Them are tenderfeet an' we-all oughter welcome 'em in th' good old-fashioned custom.
Sure thing! cried the others, and they quickly planned.
Eleanor decided it was time to dispossess these ruffians from her property, so she assumed an air of courage and started for the group, while Barbara held firmly to her sister's sleeve. But an unexpected denouement halted the two girls.
Ah say you cheated that deal! howled a miner, at the same time he slapped his leather gauntlet across a cow-boy's face.
Instantly every revolver was whipped forth and a terrible fight ensued, every man taking part in the general melee. The girls, trembling with fear as shots and curses rang out profusely, clung to each other helplessly, but failed to note that the guns were aimed skyward.
Hey, boys—what the deuce do you-all mean? shouted a fine-looking man coming upon the scene unannounced.
The crowd of men looked sheepish and hurriedly explained the joke, looking over in the direction of the two strangers. As their welcome was considered a huge joke the men laughed loudly. Mr. Brewster (for it was the rancher) frowned when he saw the pale girls almost fainting from fear. Then he turned to the ringleader in the plot:
Say, Bill! Was that pesky train from Denver on time—or too soon, for a change? asked Mr. Brewster, consulting his watch.
It war ten minits too airly, 'cause Hank Janssen, th' ingineer, 's got a christenin' down to his home to-night, explained Bill.
Then those two girls are my company, groaned the rancher, causing a scramble at his words. The cow-punchers whipped off their hats to salute and the miners shuffled behind the daring cow-boys, the better to hide their faces from the "Boss."
Mr. Brewster hurried over to reassure the girls that the whole fight had been staged to entertain them. He explained the cause of his not being on hand to meet them, and waving his hand for the cow-boys, he called:
Get busy, boys! Shake those trunks into the wagon.
While the men eagerly lent shoulders and muscles to the task expected of them, the three principals in this group made personal notes of each other, albeit not a word was said.
Ah never did see such ridiculous styles as this! thought Sam
Brewster, looking the girls over from top to toe.
This rough man Mr. Brewster! Why, he's a common farmer! thought
Barbara, disdainfully.
I bet Polly's father's a heap of fun! thought Eleanor.
When Mr. Brewster realized there were seven great trunks belonging to two girls, he groaned within himself, wondering what in the world could be found to fill so many!
The men were handed cigars, and as they doffed their hats to say "Thank you-all" they backed away to permit the Boss to help the girls up the high wagon-side.
Barbara looked at the rough stained hands and said insultingly: "No, thank you!"
Here—let me jump up and pull you in, laughed Eleanor, uncomfortably, seeing that her sister had offended their host.
Sam Brewster turned to give his horses a pail of water while the two girls attempted to climb up. But the small steel foot-rest was too high to be reached without a boost from below, so they had to climb, hand over hand, up the great wheel with its spokes clogged with the heavy mud from the trails.
When they were finally seated, both girls looked at each other. Fresh natty traveling suits were streaked by the mud, and their gloves—soft chamois-skins—could now be thrown away. Even their faces had been smeared with mud when they slipped and had to clutch at any possible rescue. Naturally, they were not in too amiable a frame of mind for what awaited them at the end of the trip.
The high spring-seat was the only one, so Barbara had to sit there. "I simply cannot hold on to this sky-scraper!" complained she testily.
It's the only one, Bob, so you will have to! replied Eleanor.
In another moment, Mr. Brewster climbed up easily and sat beside the strangers. He churked to the horses and drove away in a manner that threatened to hurl the city girls from their earthly perch into kingdom come.
Oh, this is terrible! groaned Barbara, at an unusually hard bump of the wagon over a rutty road.
Maybe we can sit down on the floor of the wagon where the trunks are? ventured Eleanor, looking at Mr. Brewster.
Shore—if you-all want to. The senseless trunks make better company than a rough old farmer, replied Mr. Brewster, without the least suspicion of malice in the words.
The exchange was made and the girls felt protected by the trunks, so they could take a livelier interest in the ride. As they left the road leading from Oak Creek, the sight of imposing mountains towering in the distance thrilled them in spite of their determination to dislike everything they saw. And the gorgeous hues and beauty of the strange wild-flowers caused exclamations from Eleanor, while Barbara gasped at the vast herds of cattle, grazing, as they roamed over the plains.
Finally Mr. Brewster guided the horses away from the wide trail, into the Bear Forks trail that wound in and out, now on the brink of the river's chasm, or again between jagged cliffs. Anon the awed girls gazed down into fearful depths as the wagon skirted the dangerous brink, or craned their necks to look at the wonderful vines and foliage hanging from the tops of massive rocks. By the time they reached the ridge of foot-hills where the trail led off to the cliffs at the Devil's Grave, both sisters were silenced by the impressive scenery, so that petty problems of puny mortals faded into a misty back-ground.
Suddenly the trail turned around a group of great rocks and the first glimpse of Rainbow Cliffs could be seen. As the wagon drew nigh the gorge running through the cliffs, Anne Stewart and Polly were found waiting for the visitors.
Anne introduced Polly, and Eleanor acknowledged the courtesy, but Barbara rudely failed to notice it as she was so obsessed with the desire to complain about the railroad, the natives of Oak Creek, the trails to Pebbly Pit, and everything connected with the coming.
Polly felt dreadfully shy with such unusual-looking girls. Not that their hats had feathers or fine flowers, nor their suits had any expensive trimmings on them, to suggest wealth, but the way they looked in their clothes! What made the difference, she wondered. Had Anne told her the actual cost of those hats and suits, poor Polly would have fainted from shock.
Barbara was holding forth on her wrongs. "I can't see for the life of me, Anne, why you selected such an outlandish spot as this, for us, in which to waste a precious summer. Why, it is simply unbearable—nothing but mountains and trails in sight! And no one but just farmers to associate with! Oh, oh!" The accent on "farmers" made Polly wince and Eleanor frown, at the speaker. Anne hastened to change the subject for she feared Mr. Brewster might turn his horses and take them all back to Oak Creek station.
It was a duel of dialogue between Anne and Barbara after that, each one trying to keep up a conversation they wished to down the other with. Thus the wagon reached the porch.
Polly sprang out and ran indoors unnoticed by any one. Eleanor was deeply interested in gazing out at the great crater bowl that formed the pasture and farm-lands of Pebbly Pit. Anne was anxious to have her charges make a good impression on Mrs. Brewster and so she jumped out and held a hand to assist Barbara.
The lady of the house stood waiting to welcome the girls, when Sary ran out from the kitchen, hurriedly drying her wet hands on an apron. She fully expected to shake hands with the fine ladies, when her turn came to be introduced. She stood directly back of her mistress peering eagerly at the new-comers in their simple straw hats, severe cloth suits, and shoes, gloves, and veils of the finest.
Before Anne Stewart could open her lips to introduce the girls, Barbara sent a scornful glance over the group and then at the ranch-house, and said: "What a barracks! It's nothing more than a log cabin on a gigantic scale."
Oh, I think it is great! Just like the wonderful cabins we read about in the Adirondacks, or other large camp-sites, quickly added Eleanor.
But this is not a camp, my poor little sister! And we haven't the same set either, as we would have had at a fashionable camp, sneered Barbara.
You needn't 'poor me,' Bob! I'm just crazy over the farm and—and everything. Hurry up, Anne, and introduce me so I can get acquainted, cried Eleanor, nudging the teacher to remind her of her duty.
Mr. Brewster had driven the team to a post a little farther up the road, and was not present when the introductions took place. Mrs. Brewster summoned a pleasant smile for Barbara, and a motherly pat on the shoulder for Eleanor. Then Sary stepped forward to be introduced, as it was customary for her to be treated as a member of the family.
Glad t' know you-all! simpered Sary, bowing stiffly and offering her reddened hand to shake the gloved ones of the girls.
Barbara completely ignored the par-boiled digits and slightly lifted one eyebrow at Sary. Eleanor felt so humiliated at her sister's actions that she came forward to make amends but Sary would have none of it.
When Barbara gave her a frozen look, Sary examined her hands for a moment, then humped her shoulders and stamped back to the kitchen-range where she had been boiling soap-fat and straining out the scum before the arrival of the city misses.
Anne, would your friends like to refresh themselves in the bedroom? asked Mrs. Brewster to break the embarrassed silence.
Oh, yes, of course! replied Anne, anxiously turning to Barbara.
Eleanor took the initiative of going toward the door. "I never saw such a darling bungalow! I just love everything spread out on the ground floor. No stairs and no elevators—Oh, how nice!"
It is a change from your brown-stone mansions, isn't it? replied Mrs.
Brewster, smiling at the concerned face.
To me it is the most awful place! I don't suppose you have baths, or electric light, or telephone service? said Barbara.
Now you see here, Barbara Maynard! You've got to stop this whimpering or I'll wire Daddy to make you go home! I just won't have my whole summer spoiled by your complaints! cried Eleanor, angrily, and stamping her foot to emphasize her words.
I hope you didn't expect me to stay here, did you? demanded Barbara.
I hope you won't—that's all I've got to say! Come on, Anne, and show me the place. Where's Polly gone? said Eleanor.
Polly was found in the large living-room, looking the picture of disappointment. Anne understood how she must have felt, so she diverted the attention of the newcomers to the great yawning fire-place that could hold several tree-trunks at one time.
And do you know, Nolla, every bit of wood in this house was hewn and carted here by Mr. Brewster? You see the government allows settlers just so much timber with which to construct a home and barns. There is a county sawmill to saw and trim logs and then the owner has to cart them himself. Naturally, one hasn't time to carve fancy ideals in the wood one uses for the house. And having it sent from Denver, or other large cities where labor is to be had, is also out of the question. The freight costs, and the long haul from Oak Creek to the Pit presents difficulties not to be overcome. So folks build homes as solid and strong as they can, and leave the trimmings for a future generation. Anne explained all this for Barbara's benefit, and Mrs. Brewster smiled her gratitude to the girl.
Eleanor seemed more impressed than ever after she heard of the time and labor it must have taken to construct such a house as the Brewster ranch boasted; and Barbara was taken back, as she had not thought of such things, but she pretended not to care.
[Illustration with caption: Barbara completely ignored Sary.
"Now, girls, come and see the guest-room Polly prepared for us. You know she is going to study interior decorating when she grows up—aren't you, Polly?" said Anne, placing an arm protectingly about the girl's shoulders and moving towards the chamber.
Polly brightened up at once, for she remembered the sofa that Anne had praised as having made a fine bed, and then there were the gorgeous bronzed shades that darkened the windows!
Polly stood at the head of the sofa watching eagerly for the effect of the decorating on the city visitors. Barbara stared at first in utter unbelief that her room could be so barren of comfort, then she turned and frowned darkly as the truth impressed her.
Why! There's nothing here—only an old bed, and a painted set of drawers such as our servants would fling out of the room! Then she caught a twisted reflection of her face in the green mirror. It was too much!
She threw herself upon the sofa and laughed hysterically. Eleanor wondered at her sister's discordant mirth but when she looked in the direction Barbara's eyes were turned, she saw the cause.
Verily, Anne, 'pride goeth before a fall'—Poor Bob! said Eleanor, cynically.
Anne could not hide a smile at the words but tried to smooth matters out by going to the window and speaking of the view.
I've had landscape enough for one day, Anne, and could recover somewhat, if I had an opportunity, without having a family party about, retorted Barbara, meaningly.
Instantly, Mrs. Brewster turned and beckoned Polly to follow her from the room. The moment the door closed upon the hostess and her daughter, Barbara anticipated her friend's reproach.
Anne, where were your brains when you recommended this awful place to father?
I had nothing to do with recommending it, Bob. Your father already knew of it and merely asked me to write Polly—my little pupil of a few years ago.
But why didn't you tell me what to expect? demanded the angry girl.
Simply because I was asked not to mention any particulars that might prejudice you; and besides, you never asked me anything! retorted Anne, feeling impatient with Barbara.
What's more, Bob, I can't see any justice in making the poor Brewsters suffer for what your own father did! But I'm glad he sent us here—it is great! declared Eleanor.
Naturally, you find your level in a common country home and family! said Barbara in an unpleasant voice.
Words never killed any one, Bob, so keep it up if it makes you feel better. I'm used to your complaints, laughed Eleanor.
And allow me to add, Bob, that the Brewsters are not common farmers. Mrs. Brewster had a better education and has more sense than any woman—other than my mother—that I know; and Mr. Brewster is a fine man respected by every one that knows him. Even the government admires his intelligence and worth, and employs him in cases where they need expert agricultural advice and reports! Anne spoke with frankness and warmth.
The government employs all sorts of men in its need, but that doesn't say the man is a gentleman, nor does it make his wife a lady. Our mother is a lady and goes in the very best society in Chicago! said Barbara.
Society does not make the lady, but the lady makes society. Mrs. Brewster could form the most exclusive set in Chicago if she cared for that sort of thing! came from Anne, curtly.
But it would take money, my dear—a farmer couldn't afford an exclusive set! jeered Barbara.
If that is the case, the Brewsters could ride on Chicago society's very crest! But they never brag about their money! laughed Anne, sarcastically.
Barbara's breath was suddenly taken away by this news but she recovered enough to say maliciously: "Oh, I see! That is why you take such a deep interest in John!"
Barbara Maynard! you—you—if you dare say another word like that to Anne, I'll—I'll just pull your hair, so there! cried Eleanor, running to Anne and throwing her arms around her neck.
Barbara felt ashamed of her words but she was too proud to confess it. So she tried to excuse herself by saying: "Of course, one can't be expected to fall right in with folks one never heard of before. Anne and you fancy a rural existence, so you naturally defend everything that goes with it. But I shall return home to-morrow on the very first train!"
There is only one out a day, and you'll have to ask a favor of the farmer before you can get to Oak Creek station! added Anne, with a bit of triumph in her tone.
Having relieved her heart of some of its bitterness, Anne felt sorry for Barbara, so she endeavored to change the current of their thoughts. She went to the window to raise the shade as far as it would go, and was struck with the wonderful sunset sky.
Oh, girls! Come here and look at that glory!
Eleanor rushed over, followed by Barbara who never wanted to miss anything good. All irritation was forgotten and healed as they stood gazing raptly at the beautiful view. The cliffs looked as if volcanic fires were again burning within their hearts, and the mist from the valley crept up to form an illusion of smoke rising from the sharply outlined peaks. A purple haze enveloped the mountains and the dusky-red streaks in the sky perfected the appearance of a vast eternal fire consuming the earth.
The sight had a salutary effect on the girls, and when they turned from the window, it was with the old friendship restored. But Barbara was of a complaining nature and must have something to find fault with. This time it found innocent objects to bear the grumbling.
Where are we expected to sleep? Both in the same bed?
Of course! Isn't it big enough? Why, I never saw such a wide bed; it's large enough to hold a dozen of us, said Eleanor.
Where is your room, Anne? Barbara asked, ignoring her sister's remark.
I sleep here on the sofa, admitted Anne, fearing another scene.
Sofa—impossible! exclaimed Barbara.
It is a bed-lounge, you know. It opens into the nicest bed! explained Anne, taking hold of the loop that was partly hidden in the deep crease formed by the meeting of the seat and back.
Watch me! I give a hard tug and presto! the upper half of the seat swings open and turns over like this. There we have a wide bed with ready-made mattress and all that goes to form a comfortable resting place.
Anne demonstrated her words and the city girls saw a low bed opened before their wondering eyes. The pillows and bedding were neatly folded and kept in a long shallow drawer under the sofa.
How awful—to sleep on that! cried Barbara. "It looks like great fun!
May I sleep here, Anne?" said Eleanor.
Indeed you shall not! You will sleep with me! snapped Barbara. Then turning to Anne again, she added: "Where are the wardrobes?"
Those curtains hide the shelves we will use. You will find nails driven into the board against the wall.
What! hang our expensive clothes on these common nails!—With only a calico drapery to protect them! gasped Barbara.
Leave your expensive clothes in the trunks, then. I am, laughed
Eleanor.
Nolla, I will need all of this one for myself; Anne and you will have to share the other one between you, remarked Barbara.
I thought you were leaving on the early train to-morrow? teased
Eleanor, quickly.
To avoid another quarrel, Anne hastily said: "Oh, I forgot about the trunks. What shall I tell Mr. Brewster?"
Tell him anything you like about Nolla's, but leave mine where the man can pick them up readily, to-morrow, when I leave, returned Barbara, in a nonchalant manner.
How about the price of the ticket to Chicago? You know we haven't more than a dollar between us? suggested Eleanor, dryly.
Barbara had evidently forgotten the fact, but she was equal to the emergency. "I'll telegraph to the bank, the first thing in the morning, and have them wire me the money."
During this animated argument in the guest-chamber, a family gathering formed on the porch of the house.
Mary, what shall we do with those seven huge trunks? asked Mr.
Brewster, quizzically watching Polly.
Seven! Why, Paw! exclaimed Polly, instantly picturing the wonderful things those trunks held. Creations such as she had pored over in the "Farm Journal Fashion Notes."
I don't know, Sam, unless we leave them in the wagon until the girls decide what they wish done with them? replied Mrs. Brewster.
Sary overheard the conversation and now ran out to see whether there really could be seven trunks!
Laws me! Ah never see'd sech quare-shaped trunks—all bulgy at one side, and all them brass locks!
They are wardrobe trunks, Sary, remarked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary deigned no reply to the information but vented a bit of her ire against the new-comers by shrugging her great shoulders and saying: "Ef Ah w'ar you-all, Miss Brewster, Ah'd shore pitch them trunks clar over th' line inta Wyomin' state whar th' Injuns kin scramble fer th' fancy duds!"
Oh, Sary, I smell the cherry-dumplings scorching! cried Mrs.
Brewster, suddenly, knowing the quickest way to rid herself of Sary.
Anne Stewart now came out and saw the group looking at the wagon. "The girls won't bother to unpack to-night, Mr. Brewster, so we may as well leave the trunks in the wagon and take them to the barn."
Jeb was sent to the barn with the wagon and contents, and Mr. Brewster retired to the lean-to back of the kitchen where he washed his face and hands in a tin basin. He had dried his hair and face, when Sary called to her mistress that the meal was ready.
Polly and her mother added the last touches to the table, when Mr.
Brewster came to the door saying: "Well, Ah'm ready, Maw!"
Run and call the girls, Polly; I think Anne went to tell them about the trunks, said Mrs. Brewster.
Unwillingly, Polly obeyed and rapped on the door. "Supper's waiting."
While Polly was absent on her errand, Jeb came into the kitchen, took a home-spun towel from its peg on the back of the door, and his hair-brush from a small cabinet in the corner. With these toilet articles he went out again to the lean-to where the crude oak bench held the basin and soap. The pump was nearby, and Jeb filled the basin quickly and proceeded to immerse his whole head. Unfortunately, at the moment the city maidens reached the kitchen door leading from the living-room, Jeb was guggling loudly. Then he stood up and snorted as he shook his mane free from the streaming water.
Eleanor turned toward Anne with a smile of amusement on her face, but
Barbara expressed her disgust with an emphatic "Ugh!"
Polly saw and heard, but failed to understand, as she had been gradually accustomed to Jeb and his uncouth ways. But Mrs. Brewster comprehended the shock it must have been to the city girls and tried to cover the unfortunate incident.
Anne, will you seat your friends at that side of the table? Polly and I will sit on this side. Mr. Brewster always sits at the head, you know, and I leave the other end for Sary as it is nearest the stove where she can reach it without walking so far.
Jeb came in and immediately pulled out a chair and sat down in his accustomed place, regardless of the standing ladies. Barbara looked on in amazement but said nothing. She was past words!
As they all sat down, Eleanor happened to catch her sister's eye and expression, and turned suddenly to Anne. Anne, too, had seen the horror on Barbara's face as Jeb reached over the table for a spoon Sary had forgotten to place beside his plate.
Eleanor raised the napkin to hide her laughing face, but Mr. Brewster construed the act to be one of reverence, and he approved of such tendencies in the young. Consequently, he hastened to say grace. Barbara sat stiff-necked throughout the lengthy prayer because she felt so rebellious at everything and with everything, that she wouldn't pay heed to the usual courtesy at prayer-time.
The moment Mr. Brewster said "Amen," Sary carried the large soup-pot from the stove and was about to ladle the soup into the bowls when Barbara said icily: "None for me, thank you!"
Jeb was tying his napkin about his neck, but at such a surprising refusal he gaped at the stranger. However, the fact that his own soup-plate was now placed before him ended the speechless shock.
He began eating at once, and the three boarders watched him scoop up the liquid as if his life depended upon finishing the work. The amount of noise he made while accomplishing the feat was a revelation to the Maynard girls and mortifying to Mrs. Brewster.
Sary concluded her serving and sat down to enjoy her own meal. She used the blade of her knife as a shovel and the fork-prongs as a pick. When she was not spearing or loading food upon either, she was using the silver as an eloquent means of expressing her conversation—which was voluble.
The moment supper ended, Mr. Brewster remarked: "The trunks are safe in the barn. Whenever you need them you can tell Jeb, and he will see that they are carried in for you."
Thank you, but I shall have them taken back to Oak Creek to-morrow as I have no idea of remaining to spoil my summer, returned Barbara haughtily.
Mr. Brewster made no reply but excused himself and went out to the wide steps of the front porch where he sat down to watch the peaceful twilight as it crept slowly over the mountain peaks.
Here, the rest of the family soon joined him, and the wonderful western night, as the brilliant stars sparkled seemingly so near to earth, had its soothing effect on the perturbed hearts and minds of all present. When Mrs. Brewster finally mentioned that it was bed-time the individuals in the group felt more amiably disposed towards each other.
Anne Stewart was awake bright and early in the morning and, finding the sisters sleeping soundly, crept out to enjoy the invigorating breezes blowing down from the mountain-peaks.
Some time later, Eleanor sat up and rubbed her eyes, at a loss to remember where she was. After a moment, however, she saw the sofa and laughed merrily.
Oh, won't you be quiet! What is the matter with you? complained
Barbara, sleepily.
Nothing—I feel so alive! Get up and hear the birds sing, replied
Eleanor, springing out of bed and running over to the window.
Oh, Bob! Look at the dazzling mountain-peaks, over there! I suppose these cool breezes come straight from those ice-tops, exclaimed Eleanor.
I may as well get up or you'll cause a riot of noise, answered
Barbara, querulously.
Of course I will. I slept so well that I could dance on a trapeze just now. How did you sleep?
Why—what does it matter to you? countered Barbara peevishly.
Matter? Why, that bed removes one of the obstacles to your remaining here, laughed Eleanor, triumphantly.
Barbara would not admit that she had never slept better nor would she prevaricate, so she merely said: "I am going to Oak Creek the moment we finish breakfast and wire father's bank for money."
Might as well find out, first, if you can use the team and wagon. Jeb only goes to town when anything has to be had here or shipped away by train. A trip of twelve miles is not a trifle every day in the week, remarked Eleanor.
I'll ride a horse to Oak Creek myself. I'll not stand this awful place another day! declared Barbara.
You can't ride a horse without its owner's permission.
Besides, added Eleanor as an afterthought occurred to her, "you only have your new traveling suit and the little light summer frock here. The trunks are going back to Oak Creek to-day, you said, and your riding habit is in one of them."
Barbara made no reply to this statement and Eleanor drew on her stockings and then sought for her shoes which she had playfully aimed at Anne Stewart the night previous. One was found by the bureau and the other was seen under the window. She ran over to pick up the one by the window.
Oh, Bob! Come here quick!
What is it? cried Barbara, hastily running over to join her sister.
My! The sun has just touched those snow-covered peaks! I never saw anything so dazzlingly beautiful! sighed Eleanor, lost in contemplation of the sight.
Barbara also stood watching the sun-beams glancing over the towering peaks, and then she said apologetically:
I never said the scenery wasn't wonderful. It is! But one cannot thrive on mountains, or associate with views.
Still, it goes a long way towards creating environment, while the atmosphere and friendships are up to the individual, retorted Eleanor.
Oh, well, you have the knack of making friends with any one, but I am more reserved and ideal in nature, so I simply cannot accommodate myself to such people and places as this!
No, but you can accommodate yourself to some empty-headed society youth who hangs over your hotel-piazza chair and tells foolish fibs to feed your vanity! scorned Eleanor.
Another sisterly scene might have ensued had not Anne entered the room at this critical time.
Girls, better hurry and finish dressing as breakfast is almost ready to serve, said she, after a pleasant morning greeting.
How long have you been up? asked Barbara.
Oh, an hour or more. I succeeded in working out a scheme I had to make things pleasanter for every one, and I want you to hurry and approve of it.
Anne lay with closed eyes for a long time revolving many plans for the ultimate harmony of that summer, and when she finally allowed herself to sleep, she had a scheme that she was going to try the next day.
As she came from her room early in the morning, she spied Polly sitting disconsolately on the porch-steps. She went over and sat down beside her.
Polly, I cannot blame you for wishing we had never come, but now that we are here, let us see if we cannot make something out of the tangle of disappointments. Eleanor will love the place at once, as she is so much like you in nature, dear, but Bob always grumbles over things at first. No matter where or what it is, she feels that she is not showing her superiority if she is not condemning what she comes in contact with. It really is a disease, Polly, and I have tried to cure her of it this last year. I am hoping for great things for her during this season, but I feel that I must confide in you to let you know just what the trouble is. Bob will make a fine woman if this hateful tendency is uprooted in time.
Polly smiled wanly, and Anne, wise young teacher, changed the subject then.
What a pity one has to waste such glorious views and delightful weather while sitting at breakfast in the kitchen!
Where would you eat it? laughed Polly, looking with amusement at her companion.
Why, under that lovely group of oaks, to be sure, replied the teacher, pointing at the trees that shaded the well-kept grass plot and flower-beds at the side of the house.
Under the trees!
Certainly; what do you suppose they were grown for if not for our uplift and joy?
Why, Miss Stewart, how funny of you! Who ever heard of having meals out-of-doors—except at picnics, laughed Polly.
Every one who can now prefers out-of-doors to a stuffy room on summer days, replied Anne, calmly, but watching the effect of her words.
Satisfied with Polly's expression, she added: "Didn't you ever read about the garden parties of society people, and the present-day trend to live on wide porches and out-of-doors at every opportunity? Your magazines ought to be full of such accounts."
Oh, yes, in magazines, but I never dreamed it was true. I've studied every plan and picture I've seen in the magazines, and I loved to picture the beautiful places and furnishings they speak of.
Anne had heard from Polly's brother John, how his sister studied every item on decorating that could be found in papers or periodicals. But Anne did not know that Polly really had a latent talent in this line nor how ambitious she was to express art and beauty in the home.
That is what I'd like to try here. Have our meals out under those trees. It won't make much extra work as the spot is very convenient to the kitchen door, but we will avoid the heat and steam from the stove and cooking, and have much more room, too.
I don't suppose it makes much difference where we eat as long as we get it over with as soon as possible, returned Polly.
That's just the trouble with most people. They merely eat because they feel they have to, but they never stop to make of the habit an opportunity to improve themselves and enjoy a social meeting with each other. We may as well be Zulus and eat with our fingers. Maybe the Zulus would prove more ideal for their home teachings than we really are.
Polly laughed again at Anne's words, but the latter added:
It's true, Polly. How many people trouble themselves to eat politely, and act or talk from the highest motives? The Zulus follow traditional customs. If we did we would follow the refined court manners of our English and Dutch ancestors. Instead, we are in such haste to eat and get back to the business of making money, that we lose all the pleasure along the way there.
Polly listened anxiously and understood that Anne was gently criticizing what she saw and heard in the kitchen the night before. Anne watched Polly's face and knew she comprehended, then she continued:
If we have breakfast in the open air it will be much cooler for every one, and Sary need not stop her routine work on account of our being in her way in the kitchen. If we help and wait on ourselves Sary need not be delayed by our tardiness in appearing at table.
Miss Stewart, I think you're right. And one good thing about eating out here is that we won't feel crowded together with nothing to look at but each other. At least we have the mountains, if we make the oak-trees our new dining-room.
Anne laughed at the manner of Polly's approval and said: "Yes, Polly, the mountains are great and wonderful and so silent, besides."
Let's go now and ask Maw what she thinks of the plan.
In a moment, Polly. You know I am anxious to help you in every way, and to teach you if you express yourself poorly?
Yes; that's the only good thing about this awful visit, admitted the girl.
"
Then allow me to correct an error in speech. If you wish to go to Denver High this fall, I want you to use refined expressions.
"Anne looked at her companion and smiled kindly, and Polly said: "Oh,
I'll be so glad to correct any mistakes. Tell me what?"
Just now you called your mother 'Maw.' And I have heard you call your father 'Paw.' They are western terms, but they are not considered correct or refined, elsewhere. The name of Father or Mother is a term of respect and loving reverence from the children. I would like to have you accustom yourself to the use of these titles for your parents and see how the very sound of it will cause you to feel more affection.
Polly weighed this news thoughtfully but she was surprised at the information that her customary "Maw" and "Paw" were not the most desirable terms to use. She knew that Anne Stewart knew better than she what was the proper manner of speech and she thanked her for her interest in helping her.
Then another thing I want you to do, Polly, is that you call me 'Anne.' I am to be with you as one of the family all this summer, and the 'Miss' is too formal for members in the same family. I want to ask this favor of your mother and father too. If you were to use Eleanor's and Barbara's first names for them as I do, I think they would feel more at home.
Oh, Miss—I mean Anne, I will love to call you that, but I never could have courage enough to call that proud girl by the name of 'Bob'! declared Polly.
Anne laughed and patted her apt pupil on the head, then she said, "Shall we go in search of your mother and ask about the breakfast table?"
Polly jumped up and led the way to the kitchen door where Sary was hard at work.
Sary, can you tell us where my mother is? asked Polly.
Your maw's just went to th' buttery to skim the milk, said she, giving Polly an opportunity to compare the two terms.
As the two girls went toward the buttery, Polly admitted: "Anne, it does make a difference, I think."
Anne nodded brightly and opened the creamery-door. Mrs. Brewster stood with skimmer in hand, taking the rich cream from the pans of milk. She looked up with a welcoming smile as the two girls came in.
Mother, Anne's been giving me 'first aid' in manners, laughed Polly, watching her mother's expression keenly.
In which line, dear; there are several you can improve in, rejoined
Mrs. Brewster, with a loving little laugh.
Didn't you hear me? I have improved upon your name.
I noticed it, but I wanted to make sure it was intentional and not a mistake.
Tell me—do you like it? asked Polly, eagerly.
Indeed I do, dear; I never could abide that name of 'Maw' and 'Paw' that is common with the ranchers.
Then why didn't you tell me this long ago! Oh, mother!
If I corrected you, and the other children at school heard you use different terms from those they were accustomed to, they would think you 'proud' and 'too good for a rancher.' I have heard that criticism so often, that I have given up trying to better conditions or express my own desires in anything that an illiterate and inexperienced neighbor may find fault with. I just accept things as they are, now, but hope for better things for my children.
This was a new light on her mother, and Polly felt subdued by it. She wondered if her mother would have been any different if she had been in Mrs. Maynard's place.
You see, continued Mrs. Brewster, turning to Anne, "one so gets to dread the free speech and narrow-minded opinions of some ranchers that one forbears in everything, rather than have strife and ill-will from those one must meet at times."
Anne nodded. "But sometimes it is better to take the risk of offending the whole community if one finally wins out."
Mrs. Brewster looked approvingly at the girl, and Polly changed the conversation by saying:
Mother, Anne and I have a plan that will surprise you.
Mrs. Brewster smiled encouragingly for the girls to speak.
It's just this: we think it will be lovely to move the table out under the trees. There the air and view can be enjoyed and afford us ample subjects for conversation, explained Anne.
Anne, splendid! After my experience of last night I would hail any change. But this is really good. I never thought of it myself, replied Mrs. Brewster, with relief.
On their walk to the kitchen, they planned to remove the table and chairs; then Mrs. Brewster added: "My husband breakfasted an hour ago but said he would be back when we sat down for coffee. He enjoys a second cup at his leisure. And I'm quite sure Sary gave Jeb his breakfast after I left the kitchen, so that gives us a clear start for the first meal to-day."
Sary was found upon her knees before the kitchen range, polishing the nickel name-plate on the oven door. A dish-pan of hot water and a scrubbing brush stood upon the floor beside her. As Mrs. Brewster came in, Sary glanced up impatiently.
Ah de'clar t' goodness! Ah wish you-all'd eat that brekfus an' vamoose outen my way. Ah hes t' scrub this hull floor soon ez th' stove's shined!
That's exactly why I came in, Sary—to get breakfast out of your way, returned Mrs. Brewster, sending a swift glance at Polly and Anne.
As Sary's words made way for their work, all fell to with a vim. Polly and Anne carried dishes and chairs out of the room, while Mrs. Brewster whisked off the cloth and asked the maid to help her carry the table out under the trees.
No reply came from Sary, and the mistress turned to see why she did not come to assist. The ludicrous expression on the widow's face, as she sat bolt upright with her blackened hands raised heavenward in silent protest, made Mrs. Brewster laugh.
What's the matter, Sary?
Yore a clar case o' bein' locoed! gasped the help.
Not at all, but you want to scrub the floor, don't you?
Ah don't need th' furnishin's taken out fer that!
But we want to eat, you see, and under the trees we'll be quite out of your way. Here, Anne, help me with the table, will you, please? said Mrs. Brewster, with finality.
The table was firmly placed under the trees and the cloth relaid. Then the willowware dishes and old Tuttle silver were arranged by Anne, while Polly watched eagerly.
I do believe those old blue dishes look ten times as nice out here as in the kitchen! declared Polly, while Anne placed a few wild flowers on the center of the table.
Merely the effect of your mental testimony, Polly. In the kitchen, with steam, working utensils, and crowed sense of room, everything takes on a sordid look and feeling. But out in God's sunshine and fresh air, everything looks and feels better. That is why sun and air are the best physician for any ill, explained Anne.
Mrs. Brewster heard, and watched Anne with a bright smile, as the sentiment of the words were exactly what she ofttimes thought. When the three returned to the kitchen to take the biscuits and other breakfast food out, Sary stood with head thrown back and body rocking back and forth as she laughed immoderately.
Do tell, Mis' Brewster! You-all bean't goin' t' eat out thar, now be yuh?
Why, of course! retorted Polly.
Why shouldn't we? asked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary could not explain, so she turned to the stove while mumbling to herself the doubts she had over the sanity of the women-folks of this queer family—excepting herself of course!
Anne had gone to the guest-room to call the girls, and to her relief, found them both dressed and ready for breakfast.
It's a lovely morning, said she, in greeting to them.
Yes, I've been sniffing the sweetness at the open window, replied
Eleanor, but Barbara stood unresponsive.
Anne noticed the simple-looking house-frocks they wore, and felt relieved at the simplicity of color and lines, although she knew that the name-tag inside of those dresses spoke silently of their cost.
We're going to breakfast out on the lawn—it is perfectly charming there, explained Anne, leading the way from the living-room by way of the front door in order to avoid Sary and her scrub-pail.
But Sary had been anxiously peeping from the crack of the kitchen door, and felt mortally offended when the company went out by the front way. "Was it not enough that the folks were too far removed from the kitchen to permit Sary to overhear what was said at table, but now they have to walk out at the Sunday door?"
So thought the widow as she left her peep-hole back of the door and stood watching from the open window by the cupboard.
Every one seemed in a pleasanter mood than that of the previous evening, and as breakfast advanced, Eleanor went so far as to ask her sister to remain at the ranch a few days, at least. And Barbara, although she would not admit it, knew the bed was exceptionally good and the breakfast most enjoyable, while the air and scenery were simply wonderful!
When Mr. Brewster came along the path leading from the barn, he stood near a lilac bush for a few moments watching the pretty group under the trees. But he couldn't understand having breakfast outside the usual place—the kitchen!
Is this a picnic? asked he, at length, coming forward.
Good morning, Paw—Father! Isn't this fun? cried Polly.
Mrs. Brewster and Anne exchanged glances at Polly's error and correction, but Sam Brewster failed to notice the new term. He bowed to the three guests and smilingly took the chair his wife placed for him at the table.
While Mrs. Brewster poured his coffee, she remarked: "This is Polly's and Anne's idea. Isn't it sensible—and much pleasanter than in the stuffy kitchen?"
He nodded approval and Polly felt satisfied. Then as her father sipped his fragrant coffee, she said: "Anne was just saying that I ought to show them the Rainbow Cliffs after breakfast."
It's so clear to-day Ah wouldn't be surprised but what you-all will see Pagoda Peak and Grizzly Slide from the Cliffs, Polly, added Mr. Brewster.
If we can, they'll like it; it's a wonderful sight, Anne, with the sun shining on the snow-capped crests, explained Polly.
And then you can take them over there some day, Polly. A good lunch can be packed into Choko's panniers, and with sure-footed horses the ride will be most delightful, added Mrs. Brewster.
Maw, you can go, too. You agreed to take things easy, you know, reminded her husband.
Oh, Sam! Riding over the Flat Top Mountains would be the hardest work for me, these days! laughed Mrs. Brewster.
Pshaw now! You used to ride better than any cow-boy in these parts, and you can't tell me those days are past, argued Mr. Brewster, dropping the habit of using western terms in his eagerness.
I've heard of Mrs. Brewster's famous riding, now chimed in Anne.
She can ride better'n Pa—Father, or any one I ever saw! Polly maintained.
Mrs. Brewster shook her head in a vain effort to discourage such praise, then she turned to the Maynard girls, saying: "Do you understand western horses? They are rather difficult at times, you know."
We ride daily when in Chicago, said Barbara, boastfully.
But city horses are mere nags, Bob. These half-wild animals accustomed to roaming the plains, are something worth while, you will find, laughed Anne.
I'd advise your going to the corral and having Jeb try out the horses for you, before you undertake any long jaunt, suggested Mrs. Brewster.
We can visit the Cliffs this morning, and try riding this afternoon, added Polly eagerly.
Then Bob and I will have to get our habits from one of the trunks in the barn, said Eleanor.
Bob and you run along and do that while Polly and I make the beds and clear away the breakfast, ventured Anne, looking at Mrs. Brewster. Barbara seemed as interested as any one.
So Barbara and Eleanor followed Mr. Brewster to the barn to point out the trunk they wanted to open, while Polly cleared the table and Mrs. Brewster went with Anne to make the beds. As they worked in the guest-room, they exchanged confidences about the two visitors.
It seems the lovely morning has had a salutary effect on Barbara's feelings regarding Pebbly Pit, ventured Anne.
I hope so, replied Mrs. Brewster, diffidently.
You see, Eleanor is broad-minded—more like her father, but Bob takes too much after her mother to adapt herself readily to such a radical change as a ranch, continued Anne, apologetically.
Eleanor appears to be a nice girl.
Bob will shortly be as satisfied as Nolla, but she just can't let go of herself and her foolish training in a minute. If we have a few pleasant outings to show her how really wonderful the country is, she will open out in her natural sweet self.
It certainly isn't a pleasant surprise, to expect a modern fashionable Summer Resort and then find a forgotten nook in the pit of an extinct volcano, laughed Mrs. Brewster, humorously.
Yes, Bob was terribly upset last night. I fancy she was regretting those seven trunks filled with expensive clothes, added Anne, smiling at the remembrance.
I can't but wonder that such a sensible girl as you seem to be, can be so fond of a girl so different from you in every way, remarked Mrs. Brewster, looking Anne in the eyes.
Anne flushed. "When you know her as I do, you will see that she really is not snobbish, but only assumes it. As I said, she is the result of silly training by a society mother. I have seen the genuine nature buried by habits and I am willing to help her bring it out to establish it permanently. Nolla will develop herself, if she is allowed to express herself without constant ridicule or reprimands. This summer ought to do wonders for both those girls."
Mrs. Brewster showed her approval by nodding her head affirmatively at
Anne.
You had ample time to study the two girls last winter when they were in Denver, I suppose, suggested Mrs. Brewster.
Yes, I was with them most of the time, and the result of the erroneous influence over Bob was always noticeable after a short visit from Mrs. Maynard. She only visited her daughters twice in the eight months, but it was generally so unpleasant a time for every one, that we were relieved that she had too many social engagements to come oftener. Anne bent down to tuck in the sheets as she spoke so frankly concerning her friends' mother.
But I must not disparage Mrs. Maynard in your eyes—you may find in her many fine qualities that have been hidden from me, quickly added Anne, fearing she had given her hostess a wrong idea.
Perhaps they are hidden very deep.
Anne laughed. "Mr. Maynard is just splendid. He is so human! He must have found the good qualities in his wife, and she, doubtless, permitted herself to be misled by vain aspirations to reach a social height offered by her husband's success in business."
Love is blind, Anne. When a man fancies himself in love with a pretty girl, he seldom seeks for lasting qualities or a strong character. He accepts the transitory beauty as the real thing and wakes up, too late, to find he entertained a dream.
I think you and I feel alike in this problem; my friends laugh at my—what they call—unreasonable opinions on marriage, said Anne, eagerly inviting a discussion with Mrs. Brewster.
Some other day, Anne. We still have the task before us of acclimating the city girls, laughed Mrs. Brewster, taking Anne by the arm and leading her from the room.
"Waiting for me, girls?" called Anne, joining her friends.
We just got back from the barn, said Eleanor, showing the habits which she had over her arms.
Well, take them to the room and change your shoes. We must wear flat-heeled boots for walking about this place, you know, returned Anne, noting that Eleanor carried both habits—doing her sister's work for her, as usual.
Good gracious! I forgot to unpack the walking shoes. Won't these Cuban heels answer? cried Barbara, impatiently.
They might answer for a twisted ankle, laughed Anne.
Then we'll postpone the walk till to-morrow, said Barbara, decisively.
Not me! I'm going to the cliffs if I walk bare-footed. In fact, I'm not so sure but that will be the most delightful thing to do, said Eleanor, sitting down to unbutton her high-heeled shoes.
Nolla! Stop disgracing us so! cried Barbara, shocked.
Well, I want to see those cliffs at close range. If you start for home to-morrow—or maybe this afternoon, if you find the cliffs disappointing—I can at least take back the remembrance of the wonderful spot, pouted Eleanor.
To avoid the usual argument between the sisters, Anne quickly made a suggestion. "Bob's feet seem to be about the same size as mine, and she can have my tennis shoes for this walk."
And Polly's feet look about my size! Why can't I borrow a pair of her country shoes? added Eleanor, eagerly.
Nolla! Your feet are very slim while Polly's are broad as are most country girls. You would ruin your feet in clumsy shoes, exclaimed Barbara.
Polly looked appealingly at her mother, so she came to the rescue. "I have always been very careful of Polly's feet, as I can see no advantage in ruining a child's feet, hence you will find Polly's shoes are made by a first-class shoemaker."
Do they have such things in Oak Creek? came sarcastically from
Barbara.
Do they have them in Denver and Chicago? retorted Anne.
Naturally—in Chicago. To meet the need for our class. And Barbara tossed her head defiantly.
Polly, run and find those last shoes we had made on the scientific last plan, came from Mrs. Brewster.
Polly vanished and Anne ran to her room for the tennis shoes. Barbara walked away and stood on the terrace looking at the far-off peaks. Eleanor and Mrs. Brewster glanced at each other, and finding a similar expression in each other's eyes, both smiled. Thereafter a better understanding existed between the two.
Staring up at white-topped mountains ought to be good and elevating for you, Bob, began Eleanor, teasingly, when Anne returned.
Here, Bob, try them on, suggested Anne, holding out her brand new tennis shoes.
Then Polly returned with a neat pair of boots with good extension soles. Eleanor took them, turned down the top and looked at the label. She threw back her head and laughed mockingly.
What a blow to Bob's pride in the Maynard feet! Here we have to come to Pebbly Pit and find our pet label in Polly's shoes. I'm sure the Maynards will change cobblers hereafter!
Every one laughed at Eleanor, but Barbara occupied herself with trying on Anne's tennis shoes. Eleanor sat down upon the grass and soon had on Polly's common-sense shoes.
They fit to a dot! exclaimed she, holding out one foot to verify her statement.
Well, then, if you feel you can wear them comfortably, do let's start before some other delay occurs, said Barbara, petulantly.
The four young folks started on the trail that wound about the cliffs, and Mrs. Brewster went indoors to cook some old-fashioned doughnuts—a large stone crock of which was always kept in the pantry.
The walk seemed very long to Barbara, who was unaccustomed to much walking, but the other three girls reveled in the exhilarating air and bright morning sunshine. Reaching the first cliffs, Polly explained about the volcanoes of that section of Colorado and showed the visitors many interesting formations of lava.
They were about to continue to the Giant Guards, when Barbara complained of aching feet. She declared it was the rough trail and not her tender feet that caused the pain and ache. So the girls sat down to rest, while Polly told of trips to other volcanic craters and peaks. They were about to start on their way again, when the echoes of a lively whistle sounded over the lava walls.
It's Jeb going to the corral to find our horses for this afternoon, explained Polly, leaning out over a fragment of lava to see who was passing by. But Jeb did not pass. He called loudly for his young mistress. "Miss Pol-lee—Ah got sumthin fer you-all!"
Come up here, Jeb! We're resting on the Giant Guards! shouted Polly.
Soon Jeb appeared on the edge of the cliffs and held out a huge paper bag that had great grease-spots here and there on its sides and bottom.
Yer Maw hed me bring these dunnits t' you-all, ez Ah come by. She sez fer you-all t' let me have anudder one, too.
Oh, they are still warm! exclaimed Eleanor, as Polly handed her one from the bag.
Shore! But that makes 'em tas' better! declared Jeb, anxiously watching Polly hand one to Anne next, and one to Barbara, before remembering him.
They're horribly greasy things, said Barbara, holding the doughnut fastidiously with the tip ends of her fingers.
Mebbe folks'd call 'em by anudder name ef no grease war used t' cook 'em by. Ah likes 'em, howsomeever, grease an' all! returned Jeb, grinning with relief as Polly gave him two large ones.
Um! But they're good! Eleanor smacked her lips at the first bite.
I can't eat mine—they look so impossible! And Barbara raised her hand and threw her doughnut over the cliff.
Oo-ah! came from Jeb in dismay, but he hurriedly left the girls.
Polly was surprised, too, but she merely said: "We never waste anything worth while. The chickens and pigs like doughnuts—if we ever have any left for them."
Anne had to turn away to hide a smile, and at that moment she saw Jeb at the foot of the cliff, glancing up to see if any one saw him pick up the discarded delicacy from the ground.
The incident over the doughnut silenced Polly as she led the way between the two giant peaks of lava. They reared their heads more than sixty feet high and were so oddly shaped that they derived their names of "Giant Guards" from the spears seemingly held out from the shoulders to challenge passersby.
The trail leading between the Guards was not more than six feet wide but immediately after passing them, one reached a semi-circle of cliffs standing about a natural arena. Opposite the trail that opened on this arena, a narrow canyon descended gradually away out of sight.
These cliffs forming the rim of the bowl are called the 'Imps' Tombstones.' If you examine them closer, you will find they have queer faces and all sorts of strange patterns traced on their bodies, explained Polly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
This bowl—as Polly calls it—is as large as Yale Campus, isn't it? said Eleanor, hoping to, establish conversation.
Everything about Pebbly Pit is on a large scale—even the hearts of the owners, added Anne, patting Polly on the back.
Pardon me for differing, Anne—not the feet of the owners, laughed
Eleanor, sending a teasing look at her sister.
Mother says this bowl seems to have been a small crater belonging to the great pit yonder, when the volcano was active in the centuries long gone by, explained Polly, as the others ignored Eleanor's remark.
These Imps certainly are strange formations! Some with arms flung high as if in defense, others crouching low as if to launch an arrow at the enemy. And see those—erect with proud mien, in defiance of all others. They must have been unvanquished, said Anne, interesting Barbara in spite of her assumed indifference.
I just guess they weren't so cold and rusty-brown when the old demon spit fire at them from the active volcano, said Eleanor, gazing aloft at the grotesque heads with facial forms.
Nolla! I beg of you to use better English! You know how mother trembles at your picked-up words from brother! rebuked Barbara, seemingly shocked at her sister.
What a tale these Imps could tell us of remote ages when they were flung aside as useless in the evolution of things! said Anne, diverting a possible argument.
I say, Anne, why wouldn't this place give you 'atmosphere' for that story you want to write, some day? exclaimed Eleanor, unexpectedly.
Anne flushed and Polly looked at her in surprise. Barbara seemed amazed, too.
Is this something I never heard of? asked the latter.
Oh, no; I once said to Nolla that I should love to be able to write a story, and she assured me I could do it. She is only teasing, as usual, laughed Anne, and at the first opportunity, she managed to give Eleanor a smart rap on the shoulder for her breach of confidence.
Leaving the Imps behind, Polly took the trail that led to the "Devil's Causeway"—the ravine that cleft two towering peaks of lava. This chasm descended abruptly to a depth of over five hundred feet and then as abruptly ascended to the level of the distant end of the trail, where it brought one to the ridge that over-looked Bear Forks Valley.
Do you want to go through the Devil's Causeway? asked Polly.
Oh, by all means! exclaimed Anne.
I wish we had thought of bringing the camera, said Barbara.
We will some other day. Now let us see the best views to get, quickly replied Anne, glad to hear Barbara express herself favorably.
You people go down into that yawning grave, while I sit here and plot out a preface for Anne's book, said exhausted Eleanor, selecting a bowlder where she could sit and see far and wide.
I'd just as soon stay with Eleanor while you two go down and back again, ventured Polly.
All right; Bob and I will see what's to be seen and be back shortly, agreed Anne, starting down the trail.
The two young girls sat high upon the lava bowlder while Polly pointed out different familiar spots and mountain peaks. Then Eleanor turned and looked curiously at her companion.
Does your father own all of this great estate free and clear? asked she.
Free and clear! What do you mean—that he cleared it of timber and freed it of sage-brush?
Eleanor laughed heartily. "Mercy no! I never thought of that. I meant a mortgage, you know."
I don't know what a mortgage is. But father never had to clear the place much as it was always rich free soil without brush.
Eleanor glanced quizzically at Polly. "Humph! My father knows what a mortgage is, poor man! Mother made him do it to get her a French car this spring. If your father was my father and owned all this vast place free and clear, my mother would mortgage it in a jiffy if she married him!"
Well, she didn't! came decidedly from Polly, with a grateful sigh of relief.
Eleanor laughed in appreciation. "Say, Polly, my father would like you down to the ground!"
Polly made no reply and Eleanor looked about her again. "Polly, how does it feel to own such wonderful things as you just showed us? And such a great farm as you have?"
I never thought of it. In fact, I don't believe any of us remember who owns them. Everybody is welcome to help themselves to these cliffs and the jewels at Rainbow Cliffs.
How much do you s'pose your father is worth? now asked Eleanor, showing a trace of Mrs. Maynard's teachings.
I never asked him. We never thought of his being worth more than we might need.
Oh, but you never can need all those cattle, and the vast farm, or the wheat and other products he ships and they bring in money, persisted the daughter of a banker.
He sends it off 'cause we can't let it spoil, you know, replied the thrifty rancher's daughter. "But I don't know how much money he may be worth. Maybe a hundred thousand dollars for the land, and maybe another hundred thousand in cattle. I've heard John and Father talk over an offer of half a million dollars for part interest in the Rainbow Cliffs, but Dad wouldn't spoil 'em."
What! What did you say he refused? shrilled Eleanor.
Polly turned suddenly to look at her companion. She was surprised at the expression on Eleanor's face.
I never lie. Why should I? she cried in defense.
No, but you must have been joking!
I wasn't! Why should I joke? retorted Polly.
But goodness me, girl! If your father was as rich as all that, why would you care about wasting a doughnut? And look at your mother making her own butter and helping in housework! Anne says she even spins her own linen towels and knits your stockings. What under the sun would she work like that for, if she could afford to live better'n we do? cried Eleanor, incredulously.
My mother doesn't have to do a thing, unless she wants to. She just likes to do it for us, and it sure does make a home! declared Polly, fondly, as she looked across the Pit to her home.
Ye-es—I guess it does; but then some mothers can't sew and spin and cook, you see, so where would the home be if we didn't have servants and folks to do for us? sighed Eleanor, comparing her own home life to Polly's—to the latter's advantage.
What does your mother do, Nolla? asked Polly, sympathetically.
Oh, she is a society leader, you know. She goes calling, and has bridge parties every week. Then she has her teas and dinners, and the balls, or theater parties, in season. Other times she has her clubs and Welfare Work—she is President of a Charity Work, you see, and has to address her members every once in a while, said Eleanor, warming up to her description as she visualized her mother's important life-interests.
Anne told us about how sick you were two years ago, and how you had to leave home to live in Denver all last winter, said Polly, a compassionate note creeping into her voice as she pitied the girl at her side.
Well, I got better, didn't I? came from Eleanor, shortly; then she said tenderly: "Anne and her mother were great!"
Yes, but I was thinking if it was me—so sick that the doctors feared I would never be well again—do you s'pose my mother would have stayed at home when I was with strangers in Denver? I reckon not! All the butter, or balls, or charities in the world could not have kept her from my side every minute I was sick!
Such emphasis found Eleanor lacking with a reply but her eyes filled up at the thought of a love that would sacrifice the world for a beloved child. Would her mother do that if she realized any danger to her children? Ah, that is what hurt!
Polly, my father would do as much for me, too! said Eleanor, exultantly, the moment she remembered one parent who loved her unreservedly.
So would mine.
Then why should he object to your having a good education in Denver? And look at the way he dresses you, Polly! I don't want you to think I am poking fun at you, 'cause I'm not, but the way you slick back your hair into two long braids and the baggy skirts you wear are simply outlandish. If I had that wonderful curly chestnut hair I'd make so much of it that I'd look positively beautiful.
Polly felt hurt, not only because of her love of the beautiful in everything, but also because she hoped Eleanor would turn out to be a staunch friend. Now, of course, she wouldn't make friends with such an old-fashioned country girl!
It's much easier to keep the hair out of my face when it's slicked back. Besides, there isn't any dress-maker in Oak Creek better'n my mother. But she doesn't have much time to trim dresses. When I go to Denver, I'll have as fine a wardrobe as yours.
If your father has any money why doesn't he buy an automobile instead of using that awful ranch-wagon? And why doesn't he hire servants to do the work your mother now does? She could sew on your clothes, if she had more time.
Mother never liked to have me think much of dress and I have always been so busy with my pets and trips on the mountains, that I generally lived in my riding clothes during vacations. But my shoes are as good as yours—you said so. And my teeth and hands and feet are as carefully taken care of as yours or any one's!
Eleanor admitted that this was so, but Polly still had to prove that her father had money. And she insisted upon the fact being proven.
If you don't believe me, you can write to my brother John, declared Polly. "His best college friend visited here last vacation-time and simply went crazy over Rainbow Cliffs. He went so far as to have an expert mineralogist come over here to examine the stones. This man was out west on business for Tom Latimer's father, and Tom said it would cost next to nothing to send for him. The man said the jewels would create the greatest wild-cat speculations in New York if they were placed on the market. Those were his very words!"
Tom Latimer! Do you know him? gasped Eleanor.
He's John's chum. He visited here for several weeks and we had the loveliest times! I liked him a lot.
I should think you would! But, Polly, Tom is several years older than you. In fact he is older than Bob, as she found out when she tried to capture him for herself. His father is one of the richest financiers in New York.
I didn't think of his age, although now you speak of it, I suppose he must be about John's age. But he acted like a big boy, so we had fine times, explained Polly, entirely innocent of Eleanor's hints regarding the young man.
Eleanor threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Just wait until I tell Bob this. Oh, how she will envy you your chance. Why, she did everything on earth but fling herself at his head when mother told her he was the richest catch of the season."
Why, he told me he was never going to marry until he found another girl like Anne Stewart! He thinks she is splendid. I asked him why he didn't marry her, and he teased me by saying I wanted to know too much. But he did tell me that Anne loved some one else who was a thousand times better than he, so he had no chance with her.
Eleanor glanced sharply at Polly to see whether she was innocent of guile or whether she was trying to hide her real meaning. She saw that her young companion had really no thought of love for herself or for her brother John. So Eleanor never hinted that she had a suspicion of the truth about Anne and John.
Do you think Anne liked Tom Latimer? she asked.
Oh, yes! But she likes him because he is such a friend of my brother's and her brother's. You see, Anne's brother Paul is at college with John and Tom, replied Polly.
Yes, I know. My brother is one of their class-mates, too. But I never met your brother or Paul. Mother said I was too young to appear in the drawing-room when Pete gave his party to his class-mates this spring.
Oh, I've heard about a 'Pete' who is so clever in his engineering class. Is that your brother? eagerly asked Polly.
Yes, and we're proud of him! At least Dad and I are. I don't suppose mother will feel proud of him until he marries a rich society girl. And Bob never bothers about what he does.
Now all this was new and strange gossip to Polly and she was willing to hear more along the same lines, but Anne and Barbara returned from the ravine, and the former called to them:
Have you been wondering what kept us so long, girls?
Never thought of you. We've been getting acquainted, replied Eleanor, with a smile at Polly.
That's good. Now let's go and visit Rainbow Cliffs, added Anne.
Lead off, Polly and I will follow, said Eleanor, linking her arm through Polly's.
Polly was not only surprised but pleased at Eleanor's evident act of friendship. She had never had a girl-friend of her own age to confide in, and she had felt very diffident with these city girls after their arrival. But the short talk while sitting on the bowlder not only established a firmer foundation for good comradeship between the two girls, but it gave each a better appreciation of the other's character.
After a circuitous walk, the four girls reached the cliffs where the jeweled stones shone resplendent from the side-walls and ground where tons of them were piled up in abandoned confusion.
No wonder they are named Rainbow Cliffs! I never saw such a dazzling sight as these green, blue, red, and other colored stones! cried Anne.
They are so beautiful that it seems as if they are real jewels! sighed Barbara, gazing raptly at the seemingly precious stones.
Polly says a man offered a fabulous price for a small interest in this spot, remarked Eleanor, taking up a handful of the pebbles and letting them run between her fingers in a speculative manner, while she glanced covertly at her sister.
Not really! exclaimed Barbara, looking at Polly.
Yes, but please let's not talk of it. Father does not like any of us to speak of it, as he fears John and I will have our heads turned, returned Polly, sending a reproachful look at Eleanor.
But Eleanor smiled with satisfaction, for she knew she had boosted
Polly's value a thousand fold in Barbara's estimation.
Well, I'd sell out if it was me! My, but the good times I could have on the money this would bring! sighed Barbara, glancing up at the masses of colored stones towering above her in the sunshine.
My brother John says he is going to work these cliffs as soon as he finishes his college course of engineering, said Polly.
And Tom Latimer is going to be his partner! added Eleanor, watching her sister closely.
Nolla, I didn't tell you that, at all! cried Polly.
Tom Latimer! Does she know him? asked Barbara of Anne.
I don't know, Bob; Paul and he are great friends of John Brewster's, you know.
Polly would not deign to look at Eleanor again, and took the homeward trail without another word as she felt pained at her newly found friend's mis-statement of facts. But Eleanor had done it all for friendship's sake. She knew what a radical change all this information would make in Barbara's estimation of the Brewsters and the ranch, so she said more than she herself really believed true.
At that moment the dinner-horn sounded and the girls started for the house, without making further comment on the cliffs.
As the four girls came around the corner of the ranch-house Sary banged a plate of hot biscuits upon the table. Some of the biscuits bounced off and rolled across the snowy cloth, so Sary made a swift lunge to catch them before they fell upon the ground.
Without hesitation, she replaced the biscuits on the plate and glared at the boarders as she mumbled to herself: "Sech high-filutin' a'rs Ah never did see afore!"
The strangers looked at each other, wondering what the maid's perturbed manner portended. But Sary flounced back to the kitchen sending an angry glance over her shoulder before she entered that sacred precinct. She quickly returned with a glass dish of pear preserves and another dish of home-pickled peaches. These were so placed as to flank the biscuits when Sary spied an inquisitive hornet about to settle upon the preserves.
Git out o' that! shrilled she, whacking at the insect with her kitchen towel.
The hornet resented the vicious slap and flew straight for Sary's red head. She unceremoniously ducked and ran. But the insect buzzed after her with evil intent, so Sary ran for her sanctuary, slamming the screen door safely between herself and her pursuer. The audience watching beside the table laughed merrily at the rout.
At the sudden entrance of the maid into the kitchen, Mrs. Brewster asked, without looking up: "Did you place the butter and milk on the table, Sary?"
It are! from Sary, curtly.
Mrs. Brewster looked up in surprise. She saw Sary on the safe side of the screen-door glaring at the hornet, which was crawling slowly towards the crack in the opening, while buzzing threateningly, now and then.
There's a hornet, Sary—better drive it away before you venture out again.
Ah are.
Take the kettle and dash some boiling water on it. It sounds angry enough to sting.
It am, flared Sary, as if her anger, too, was vicious enough to do as the hornet would. But she turned to get the hot water and when she returned to deluge the plague, lo! it was there no more.
Sary, what's wrong with you since this morning? You've not been civil in any way, said Mrs. Brewster, impatiently.
Wrong e'nuff! Jeb an' m'sef havin' t' eat meals all alone in a big kitchen that's fine e'nuff fer any one. But these fool gals is so high an' mighty they hez t' nibble at a table under the trees! Sary's lofty scorn was only equaled by her majestic pose, as she delivered her sentence.
You're wrong, Sary, we do not nibble at the table—we leave that for the field-mice, corrected Mrs. Brewster, sweetly.
Sary vented an explosive "Humph!" and grabbed the meat-platter. As she left the kitchen, she sent an insulted glance at her mistress, but the recent correction in speech made her forget the hornet. The watchful insect had been sitting directly over the door, and now eagerly resumed its drive on the enemy.
Despite her resolve to be dignified and scornful, Sary had to take flight before the group seated about the table. The girls laughed. One of the maid's loose shoes flew off during the race around the table and the hornet would have conquered her had not Mr. Brewster risen to the occasion and downed the insect with his newspaper. His heavy boot finished the career of the "Hun-net" and Sary went back to the house, picking up her shoe as she passed its resting place.
Once more in the kitchen, she returned to the argument. "Ef it warn't that you-all hed this comp'ny an' would be worn out in no time, alone, Ah'd pack an' git, this day!" But in her heart the widow knew horses could not drag her from such luxury as she had only recently enjoyed. Besides, there was Jeb; he offered future possibilities of curtailing her widowhood.
While Sary delivered her opinion, Mrs. Brewster finished creaming the potatoes and now dished them up. As she started for the screen-door, she turned to the maid and said:
Either you have a severe attack of indigestion coming on, Sary, or you are falling in love again. Both diseases present similar symptoms in their first stages.
Mis' Brewster!
But the mistress refused to look back even though the temptation to see
Sary's face was great!
Oh, Mis' Brewster! How kin you-all say that—so soon after Bill's funeral, an' the expenses not all paid yit! howled Sary, rushing to the door that her mistress might hear her lament.
But the call fell upon deaf ears. Miss Brewster deigned no reply, so Sary sat down heavily upon a strong kitchen chair and took thought for herself. How did Miss Brewster guess her half-formed idea? Had she discovered in some uncanny manner, that Sary had slyly removed Bill's post-card photograph from her Bible and cremated it that she might feel freer to accept a second proposal of marriage—if it came?
She coulden' hev foun' that out, cuz Ah locked th' box sence then. She mus' be one of them brain-readers by nature, Ah rickon, an' she jes' reads me like a book!
Never dreaming of the turbulence created in Sary's mind by her casual remark, about dyspepsia and love, Mrs. Brewster took her chair at the table. Immediately after giving thanks, the host stood up to carve the roast. Then, to the surprise of all present, it was seen that the rancher had donned his second-best black coat and had taken the trouble to wear cuffs and a starched collar.
Trying to avoid Polly's eyes, Mrs. Brewster met the gaze of Anne. But the two understood and exchanged a fleeting glance of satisfaction and approval.
Well, girls, did you visit Rainbow Cliffs—and how did you like them? asked Mr. Brewster, having finished the carving.
Oh, they are just wonderful! declared Eleanor.
I hear they are very valuable, remarked Barbara.
Mr. Brewster sent her a sharp glance and then frowned at Polly. "Ah
never give that a thought. There they've stood for ages before Sam
Brewster saw them, and Ah reckon there they'll stand for ages after Sam
Brewster is dead and forgotten!"
Not if I can coax Polly to sell enough of the loose stones to buy an automobile and go off to school! said Eleanor, emphatically.
An annoyed look from Mr. Brewster and a surprised one from Mrs. Brewster made Anne and Polly feel uncomfortable at Eleanor's lack of tact. But the hostess was equal to the situation.
Polly, who do you think came to the kitchen door to ask for you while you were at the cliffs, this morning?
Here—to ask for me, Mah—mother! exclaimed Polly, in surprise.
Yes, and she felt deeply offended because you had not asked for her health or even sent word to her by Jeb—and she so lonely after her accident, too! Mrs. Brewster managed to express great pathos with her words.
Oh, my darling Noddy! Mother, did she come to the door? laughed Polly, sympathetic tears starting in her eyes at the picture called up by her mother.
Yes, and she said it was simply inexcusable in you. She was willing to carry you anywhere you wished to go, but now she will disown you forever, unless you make peace with her, this afternoon, said Mrs. Brewster, smiling as she saw how she had succeeded in her effort to change the thoughts and conversation of her family.
And Jeb said he had the horses ready for you girls as soon as you wanted to try them out, added Mr. Brewster.
Dinner was dispatched hastily after this announcement, and the girls ran to don their habits. All idea of Barbara's wiring for return-ticket money that day was forgotten as they went gayly towards the corral to try out different horses.
The entire afternoon was given over to exciting sport, as the girls, and even Mrs. Brewster, tried to outride each other about the great enclosure. Polly made Noddy happy by mounting her silky little back and whispering fond nothings in the long ears. Anne was pleased to find her Chicago friends could ride so well on the restive western horses, and both Chicago girls were surprised to find what a magnificent rider Mrs. Brewster was. She was slowly rising in their private opinions of her.
During the following days, the girls took short rides to points of interest in Bear Forks Valley and nearby mountains. And then came Sunday. Barbara had not openly declared her satisfaction with the ranch or time spent with its people, the past week, but neither had any one heard a hint of her returning to Chicago. In fact, so much had been crowded in the days just gone by, that no moment had been found in which to think of returning home. The trunks had not been opened since the habits had been removed, as there was no need for changes of costumes, and the traveling bags had contained all the girls needed for a few days.
The ranchers of the Rocky Mountains are so strict about observing the Sabbath Day, that everything pleasurable, or in the form of work, has to end at twelve o'clock Saturday night. Every one goes to "meetin'" on Sundays, some driving a distance of twenty miles, or more. Once a month, an ordained preacher crosses the Flat Top Mountains to hold a regular service, and on other Sundays the leading ranchers read the Bible and conduct prayers.
The weather throughout summer in this section of Colorado is generally fine and clear. Should a heavy thunder storm arise, it as quickly passes over again. The nights are cool and dewy and the days glorious and exhilarating. Hence one has no dread of foggy or prolonged rainy days as in the East.
The plan of dining under the trees had proved a good one, and as the weather remained fair, no meals had to be eaten in the kitchen since that first day.
When the family gathered about the table that Sunday morning, they all seemed cheerful and animated, but Mr. Brewster had not yet made his appearance.
Has Mr. Brewster had breakfast so soon? asked Anne.
No, he has not come out yet; he is reading the Sunday lesson for his class in School, replied Mrs. Brewster.
Sunday School! Do you go? Where is the church? asked Eleanor, wonderingly.
Down at Bear Forks School-house. We use it for church, as well as for other important purposes, besides day-school, Mrs. Brewster replied, smilingly.
Soon after the girls appeared at table, Mr. Brewster came out. He said good morning in a very sedate manner that surprised the girls who were not accustomed to his Sunday manners.
That morning he gave a lengthy prayer of thanks that was meant to cover the past week, but once he had concluded grace, he turned to his wife.
Mary, I'm sure I smelled the omelette scorching.
Mrs. Brewster hurried to the kitchen where she found the eggs burning and the room filled with horrid smoke. Sary was scolding at a great rate, but she never used a profane word because it was wicked.
Why, Sary, how did you happen to let the eggs burn?
How come? Well, I'll tell you-all! Mr. Brewster handed me a printed prayer to learn, and I was looking for my specs in my box when it happened! That's all the good that prayer did me!
Mrs. Brewster kept a straight face and said: "Well, never mind, Sary.
We'll soon have another omelette ready."
Not on Sunday! I made one, and that was a sin, ez you kin see by the way it burnt. I does no more cookin' or there'll be extra sin to wipe out. Thar's bread and jam and coffee—enough fer any one to git along on fer a few hours.
Mrs. Brewster knew her husband, however, so she said nothing to Sary, but hurriedly whipped up another omelette and fried it to a delicate brown. This she carried out to serve. At the kitchen door she turned to speak to the help.
Sary, bring out the bread and jam, will you?
Sary had filled a deep dish with dry cereal and held it in one hand. She took up the coffee-pot with the other and' ran to get out of the screen-door which had been flung open by her mistress. But the door slammed to sooner than Sary had calculated and struck the coffee-pot in its violent closing, throwing it upon the floor.
Consarn th' pesky door! Now thar hain't nuthin' on arth fer Mr. Brewster to give thanks fer but jes' toast and jam. Ah cain't bile another pot of coffee on Sunday! Sary stood contemplating the disaster until Mrs. Brewster called out:
Sary, will you bring that bread and jam?
The help brought the desired edibles and explained about the coffee.
Eleanor laughed out loud, but Anne kicked her warningly under the table.
Mr. Brewster turned to explain to his guests. "Ranchers never work on the Sabbath. The less we cook the better it is, for we do penance to our material desire for food. I have never been so severe as to forbid cooked food on my table, but many of the families do. This morning, however, we are compelled to sacrifice our weaknesses to Sary's ways."
So the bread and jam was eaten with the omelette, to the accompaniment of cold water, and then the master prepared to leave the table.
Girls, don't waste much time fussing with your toilette; we are behind time as it is.
Did you expect us to go to church? gasped Barbara.
Certainly. Everybody goes, returned Mr. Brewster, equally surprised at such a question.
Why, we haven't unpacked any clothes for church.
That doesn't matter. The Lord doesn't judge according to dress. If your heart is clean it is all He wants, replied Mr. Brewster, walking away towards the house.
The girls looked at each other in amazement.
What shall we do, Anne? I won't go in this old rag! declared Barbara.
Don't drag me into the argument, Bob. You hate going to church and there's no use trying to pretend it is your dress that keeps you away.
Would Eleanor care to go with us? asked Mrs. Brewster.
Is Polly going? countered Eleanor.
Oh, yes, I always go, said Polly.
We-el, I don't know, Poll. I'll go next Sunday but I am taken by surprise this week. I'll stay home with Bob, I guess.
Very well, then, I'll tell Mr. Brewster to omit the extra seat in the wagon, and Mrs. Brewster hurried away to dress.
What shall we do all morning? asked Eleanor the moment the ranch-wagon was out of sight.
We might unpack a few things we need, and arrange the trunks so mine can be sent back home without giving you any trouble about yours, suggested Barbara.
That's a good plan. And a good day to do it in, too, laughed Eleanor.
I think it is ridiculous—the way they go on about the Sabbath! I suppose they would be dreadfully shocked if they knew we were about to unpack our trunks! said Barbara, sneeringly.
Time passed quickly in sorting out the numerous items in the seven trunks, and the girls felt famished before they were done. The articles they wished to have out for use were piled up on the grass outside the barn, and it looked a formidable heap when all was ready to leave the barn.
Goodness me! We'll have to make a dozen trips to the house with all this! exclaimed Eleanor.
We'll carry all we can pile up this first trip, and then have luncheon. Afterward we will carry the rest over, said Barbara.
The clothing seemed so light that they kept piling up the articles until they could hardly see from under the mountain of lingerie and accessories. But they both found how heavy the light summer clothes could be, when one's arms were extended unnaturally to hold up so much finery.
They finally reached the porch and threw the things into rustic chairs, while they sat down to cool off in the breeze.
Now, you carry the clothes to the bedroom, Bob, while I hunt in the kitchen for something to eat, remarked Eleanor, after a time.
These important duties attended to, the girls were about to go to the barn for a second load of clothing when the ranch-wagon drove up to the steps. The family got out and Jeb drove on to the barn.
What's this on the grass? asked Mr. Brewster, stooping to pick up a silk stocking.
That's Barbara's, I think, said Anne, instantly divining the cause of its being there.
Then Jeb came running back to the house with news. "Ah found th' trunks is b'en opened by some one, an' all th' finery is piled on the grass outside th' barn. What hes happened, Ah want to know."
Luckily Mrs. Brewster heard his remark and Mr. Brewster had no time to speak before she caught Anne's hand, and led Jeb back to the barn. Shortly thereafter, the three returned laden with everything ever known in a lady's wardrobe.
Mary, you have broken the commandments to-day! said Mr. Brewster, overcoming a keen desire to laugh at his wife.
Maybe, Sam, but I strengthened another, called the 'Golden Rule'—I certainly did unto them what I want some one to do for mine in case of need. Poor girls!
Sary happened to be coming from the kitchen with the early supper dishes in her hands. She saw Jeb with dainty silk lingerie almost covering his head, and she heard Mr. and Mrs. Brewster's words. It was too much!
She continued on her way, but once she reached the table she thumped the dishes down to vent her spite. "To think them city gals kin wind Jeb about their fingers like that! On a Sunday, too! Ah wonder hain't he got no respeck fer me an' the Brewster women, that he allows them snippy misses to git him to carry underwear—him what's an unmarried man, at that!"
While the family sat at table enjoying the quiet Sunday evening, Sary took advantage of their interesting discourse to slip away from the kitchen and examine the beautiful lace-trimmed apparel spread out upon the great bed in the guest-room.
Laws me! Ef it hain't like a bridal outfit. Ef Ah ever hed hed th' chanst t' put on ennything like-es-that, I'd not have hed t'marry a poor rancher like Bill. Ah could have hed my pick of the men at Oak Crick!
Sary sighed with pity at her own limitations in life, and she crept back to her kitchen planning how she could manage to get one of the girls to present her with some of the bridal finery. Thus pondering the problem, she sat down opposite Jeb and entertained him, as he ate his Sunday supper of pork and beans.
The interesting events which crowded each other, day after day, in this western life, so engrossed the girls that Bob forgot her vow to send a telegram for return money to Chicago. She even forgot to write to Mrs. Maynard at Newport, or to any of her society friends, until Anne reminded her of a duty to her parents.
Tuesday following their first Sunday at Pebbly Pit, a rancher's wife called just before noon, to deliver invitations.
Ah heer'd tell how you-all had comp'ny this summer? were the words with which she greeted Mrs. Brewster.
Yes, a few young people. Will you be seated, Mrs. Halsey? said Mrs.
Brewster, placing a chair on the vine-shaded porch.
Ah come t' ast you-all—say, you, Sally, stop pickin' them flowers! Mis' Brewster'll lick yuh! The visitor interrupted herself to shout at her little girl who proved to be a naughty one.
Ez Ah was sayin', Ah come t' leave an invite fer th' hop at Bear Forks. We-all is glad t' see Anne Stewart, which was a school-teacher some time back, an' it was fit t' celebrate her friendship, in some way. Don't cha think a dance jes' th' thing? As the visitor spoke she rocked violently back and forth.
I'm sorry my visitors are not here to thank you themselves, but I feel sure they will be delighted to attend the dance, replied Mrs. Brewster, shaking her head rebukingly at the small boy who stood on the rockers of his mother's chair, and gripped hold of the back, and so was roughly swayed back and forth with the rocking.
See har, yuh Jim Henderson Halsey—git down from thar! Ef Ah ketch yuh, Ah'll skin yer face fer the hop—that Ah will! threatened the mother, trying to reach her young hopeful.
But Jim Henderson Halsey knew from dire experiences just what to expect did his mother succeed in catching him, so he dodged and ran away.
Did you-all say the gals would be in shortly? asked the caller.
No, I said they were not in. They are at the corral this morning.
Laws me! What a place t' spend th' mornin'. Ah reckon they'll be along any time, then.
They left here just before you came and they are practicing on our western horses before taking any long trips, explained Mrs. Brewster, looking regretfully at the flower-beds where the two willful children were destroying the fruits of her planting.
Mrs. Halsey followed her hostess's glance and jumped up. "Ef yuh two varmints don't quit that, an' come right t' me, Ah'll—Ah'll shet yuh up in a boogy-hole!" shrilled the irate mother.
Sary heard the familiar voice and instantly ran from the kitchen to assist in entertaining the morning visitor. The two bad youngsters, left to their own devices, began throwing the whitewashed stones that encircled Mrs. Brewster's roundels.
How-dy, Miss Halsey? was Sary's greeting, her large hand extended in cordial comradeship.
Oh, it's Sary Dodd! How-dee, Sary? Ah recommember now that you-all come t' live wid Miss Brewster. How'd you-all like th' place?
The visitor's frankness lost none of its curiosity as she eagerly waited to hear all about the Brewster family with the mistress still present, but ignored.
Sary was in her glory and made the most of it. She had just reached the point where she intended asking the "gossip" to stop to have dinner, when a crash interrupted the enlivening Yellow Jacket Pass conversation.
Sary, run and see what those children have done! cried Mrs. Brewster, mentally thanking her stars for the timely intervention.
Soon the ladies heard Jim Henderson Halsey bawling loudly, and his sister backing away from the buttery while she continued making faces at the angry help. The little girl's protruded tongue made Sary rush at her with uplifted palm, but both youngsters were so accustomed to dodging these attacks, that they reached the haven of Mrs. Halsey's presence without a painful encounter.
The ol' thing shook me till my teeth rattled! wailed Jim Henderson, etc.
Sarves yuh right! What cha be'n up t', any way? retorted Mrs. Halsey, the hope of dinner still lingering, but growing dim as Sary did not return.
Fortunately, for the general peace of all concerned, Mr. Brewster drove up to the porch, on his way to Oak Creek. His wife's beseeching look appealed to him understandingly.
Good morning, Mrs. Halsey. Ah hear you-all are inviting folks to the dance at the school house. Want me to give you a lift to Jamison's ranch—he hasn't been invited yet!
Why, Ah figgered goin' thar after dinner. Be you-all goin' off before yuh eat?
Ah am not sure when we will have dinner to-day, the young ladies are so engaged with riding, you see.
The moment the Halsey scions heard mention of "dinner" they clung to their mother's skirts and whined: "We-all wanta stay to dinnerr! Don't cha go widdout dinnerr!"
Why not give the children some cake, mother, and then Mrs. Halsey can have a bite with Jamison. He can lift her on to the next ranch, too, suggested Mr. Brewster.
Mrs. Brewster instantly acquiesced and ran to cut three generous triangles of cake, while her husband came up and lifted Sally up into the deep wagon. Before any of the Halsey family could protest, he had turned, lifted Jim Henderson up beside his sister and then asked the visitor if he could help her up to the seat.
The cake was distributed, and the vexed but vanquished morning caller jabbed a hat-pin through her rusty toque and pulled her jet-trimmed shoulder cape tightly over her back, before bowing haughtily to Mrs. Brewster.
Not until the ranch-wagon turned the edge of Rainbow Cliffs did Mrs. Brewster permit herself to leave the post of watching and slump down into the porch rocker with a sigh of gratitude.
Half an hour later the sound of wheels caused her to spring up in dread, but her husband's cheery laugh relieved her fears.
Ah saw your difficulty and did the only sensible thing; but we-all must keep this trick a secret. If Sary gets hold of it, my reputation in Bear Forks, or Yellow Jacket Pass, is gone, confided Sam Brewster to his wife, as he glanced fearfully about for Sary.
The horn for dinner sounded shortly after the master's return and, at the table, the girls were told of the visitor and her invitation to the dance, but no word of her form of departure was mentioned.
It's lucky we have evening-dresses, remarked Barbara.
Do folks dress up at these parties? asked Eleanor.
I should say we do! declared Polly.
Mrs. Brewster and Anne were talking in low tones and did not hear the question and answer, so they did not explain what Polly meant by "dressing up."
The days intervening between the Tuesday and the Friday set down for the hop passed quickly. Polly and her mother washed and renovated the dotted swiss dress made for the school-commencement, and to Polly's delight Anne added a blue sash and hair ribbons.
Anne had a simple flowered-silk gown she proposed wearing. And the city girls had elaborate dresses—Barbara's very much in the latest mode and Eleanor's flounced and furbelowed, but modestly high in the neck as became a girl not yet "out."
Sary had bewailed her fate the day preceding the eventful one. Eleanor pacified her by presenting her with a net-lace collar to enliven her rusty black alpaca.
An early supper was planned, as the ride to Bear Forks school would take more than an hour, and every one wanted to be there for the grand march. For several hours before supper-time, Barbara locked herself in the bed-room and began her toilette. She dressed her hair, massaged, and rouged and penciled her eyebrows, until she quite tired herself out.
Eleanor and Anne rapped again and again for admission, but Barbara was obdurate about her right of possession. When she finally opened the door for her room-mates, they stared at her in amused surprise.
Your hair looks all sizzly, Bob, said Eleanor.
Oh, Bob, remove some of that carmine from your lips! advised Anne.
Why? demanded Barbara.
Too much of it, that's all! giggled Eleanor.
But Anne and Eleanor had their own toilettes to make and paid no further attention to Barbara. She managed to remove some of the carmine, and pat down her hair, hot she could not do things as the French maid generally did them to add to her beauty. Feeling dissatisfied with her appearance made Barbara irritable, but she remained in the room criticizing everything the two other girls did or said. Then just before the horn sounded for supper, a knock came at the door.
Come in! called Anne, buttoning her white suede boots.
'S onny me. Ah jes' wanta ast you-all ef it is right in city sassiety, fur a widder of six months' standin' t' go t' a party whar onny old frien's will be. Thar won't be no sky-larkin' er high-jinks, yo' know!
Sary's anxious tone expressed her eagerness for a favorable reply to her query on widowhood. Eleanor looked at Anne to answer, so she took the initiative.
Certainly, Sary—come right along and enjoy yourself.
Barbara was shocked. "The help's not going—surely!"
Humph! Miss Halsey ast me afore she mentioned you-all! snapped Sary, quite able to defend herself against Barbara's pride.
Oh, Bob doesn't mean it that way, Sary, said Eleanor, giving her sister a backward kick for silence.
Of course not! Bob means that your mourning might prevent your attending the dance. But seeing we are all old friends from ranches round about, it will be like meeting your family, added Anne, the pacifist.
Wall, then, Ah'll go, sighed Sary, as if loath to join a merry throng. "But Ah hez t' have a smitch of somethin' like-ez-how Miss Bob hez fer her shoulders, cuz my neck's gettin' scrawny now."
Barbara had draped chiffon over her neck and dress, and at Sary's request, she turned angrily. "The very idea! This chiffon is two dollars a yard!"
I've got the very thing you need, Sary. You can wear second mourning now, I suppose! exclaimed Eleanor, sending a look at her sister.
She hurried to the closet and took a long flat box from the upper shelf. As she carried it over to Sary, Barbara stared.
Eleanor Maynard! What are you giving her?
Something I never will need this summer, and Sary can use it very nicely to furbish up that black dress.
Sary was too excited to wait and open the box in her own room, so she tore off the paper at once. A lovely rainbow-tinted chiffon scarf lay revealed, the predominating colors being violet.
Ah-h-h! Ah'm clean locoed, Miss Nolla! Not a soul'll ever know that rusty black alpacky is th' same dress Miss Pearson mourned her husband in fer five years before Ah got it given me!
What nonsense! As if that dainty scarf will hide your outlandish dress and mountainous figure! came insultingly from Barbara.
But nothing could spoil the joy of possessing such a heavenly wisp of angel's robe as that scarf seemed to be to Sary. She was deaf to all else, as she tenderly hugged the box to her ample bosom and backed from the room.
When all were seated about the table, which was spread in the living room for that night, Mr. Brewster smiled at Polly in her gala attire. Anne looked sweet and lovely in her simple dress, but the host could not quite make out the style the city girls wore. He was not accustomed to boudoir gowns of filmy lace and thin silk, and he thought they were a new style of party dress. Had he known what Barbara proposed wearing, he would have asked her to remain at home.
As Sary passed the bread to Eleanor she leaned over and beamed: "Miss Nolla, Ah tried that on, an' you-all woulden' know me! Ah'm shore he'll pick me fer a lanciers! Mebbe that scarf'll give him spine enough to speak!"
Sary, I know right well he will! declared Eleanor, not dreaming the mischief she wrought in Sary's soul at that.
Sary pranced back to the kitchen, but her flighty thoughts were swinging corners in the quadrille with Jeb, and the fried potatoes were gracefully shot into the coal-scuttle as the pan was waved aloft in imitation of dancers she had envied in days gone by.
Sary, hurry with the coffee-pot, please! called Polly.
And Sary grabbed up the stone jug of vinegar from the back of the stove where she had placed it, and ran in to pour the beverage into cups. The combined cries of every one at the table failed to bring her to her senses, so Mrs. Brewster told her to go quickly and dress for the dance.
Then wagon wheels sounded on the gravel road and Jeb yelled: "Air you-all ready?"
Sary gave a last lingering look in the tiny mirror over her combination wash-stand, and realized what charms she had when rainbow chiffon adorned her person. She then snuffed out the tiny lamp-wick and hurried forth to meet her fate.
Jeb was dressed regardless of all censorship. A great flaming peony in his coat-lapel reflected its scarlet on his ruddy face. His tie was a riot of colors and detracted somewhat from his purple socks and tan shoes. He wore a figured near-silk vest won at an Oak Creek raffle, and large checked trousers said to be the latest fashion some years back, when he squandered his money on them. With his face scoured until it shone, and his hair greased so that it was plastered down neatly, Jeb felt he could woo and win the prettiest gal in the country-side. He forgot there was a "female widow" about.
The Brewster party reached the school-house later than was their wont, and the cloak-room was well-filled with ranchers' wives and daughters all waiting to pass judgment on the strangers from Pebbly Pit.
Mrs. Brewster and Polly entered first, shaking hands with friends and acquaintances. Anne followed smiling benignly on all. Barbara came next, casting disdainful looks at the ordinary women she found present. Eleanor delighted in the novel experience and was anxious to meet them all.
Once in the small room, the new-comers began to remove their dust-coats and wraps. The ranchers' parties then went out to make room. Barbara turned to Anne and whispered:
Where can I find the maid?
Maid! We haven't one here, you know.
No maid to help me? Goodness, what shall I do?
You're supposed to dress at home; besides, these people do not powder or rouge, so they need no mirror or maid, you see, explained Eleanor, taking delight in shocking Barbara.
Then I suppose I will have to go out without a look at myself. Do I look all right to you, Anne?
As she spoke, Barbara dropped her evening cloak from her shoulders and pivoted for Anne's benefit. Her gown of rose-pink net, trimmed with elaborate gold embroidery, was extremely decollete, with narrow gold bands over the shoulders performing the double duty as sleeves and to hold the lower section of the dress up in place!
Barbara turned slowly and attracted the attention of Mrs. Brewster, Polly, and a few strangers lagging behind to watch the visitors. Just then Sary hurried in from the dance-hall. She gasped at the sight before her and quickly came to the rescue.
Shet yer eyes—every one! The poor dear! Ah'll cover her up whiles some one finds her basque! And Sary caught up Mrs. Halsey's jet-trimmed cape and wound it quickly about Barbara's bare neck and shoulders.
Child, how come yuh t' fergit the basque? Er what hez happened to it? cried Sary, sympathetically, while Barbara struggled vainly to wrench herself free from the ill-smelling wrap that generally hung in Halsey's kitchen.
Ah hev it! Polly, git the box Nolla gave me. Ah'll let Miss Bob wear my scarf!
This meant supreme sacrifice for Sary, but she willingly offered the one and only treasure to serve a betrayed friend. Still she was at a loss to understand where that basque could be!
Finally Barbara squirmed free and Mrs. Brewster managed to say:
Sary, Bob has on one of her most modern evening gowns. They are made without tops, you know!
Sary gasped and suddenly collapsed upon the chair. Her strained expression, as she took a covert look at the dress, spoke volumes.
Glory be, Miss Brewster, whispered Sary, hoarsely. "You-all don' mean it fer trut', do yuh?"
Yes, Sary, it is a very expensive and stylish robe.
An' kin you-all let her march brazen-like, like that, in front of the men! shrilled Sary, holding both wide hands over her heart.
I never heard or dreamed there was such ignorance in the world, as I have found in Colorado! now flared Barbara, turning and leaving the cloak-room.
Sary waited but a second, then she cried, "Ah cain't 'low Jeb t' see sech sights—an' he a good bachelor-man!"
Sary rushed out to spare her prey any shocks, and the other members of the party gazed at each other doubtfully.
Oh, well, it's not our funeral, Potty! said Eleanor.
Shall we join the dancers? asked Anne.
Yes, but I fear Bob will be ostracized, said Mrs. Brewster.
Serve her right! Anne and I told her not to dress like that, but she would, you know. She wanted to show folks the style, explained Eleanor, taking silent Polly by the arm and leading her out to the main hall.
As they left the cloak-room, the girls heard the fiddler shout: "Git yer pardners fer the Grand March!"
And from that time on to midnight, the three girls had the best fun ever. But poor Barbara stood near the cloak-room as isolated as the plague, for the ranchers dared not even look at a gown without a top, let alone dance with the doubtful thing.