"It seems selfish of us to be having a whole summer of fun when she's only had two or three days," said Sarah.

"Sarah talks as if it's downright wicked for any of us to be having a good time," Kitty retorted. "Maybe you think one of us ought to change places with Carita?" she challenged Sarah.

"Sarah is the only one of us that's unselfish enough to do such a thing!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed warmly; and Sarah sent her a grateful glance.

They were in a part of the country that Blue Bonnet called "the other side of the hills,"—a land of sheep-ranches, for the most part; rather barren and level, unlike the rolling green prairie of the cattle-country she loved. They could see the Judson's wagon winding its way across the plain, until only a blur of dust marked its course towards the horizon.

"Let's hurry," said Blue Bonnet, "I promised Grandmother we'd surely be back for lunch."

"It isn't your turn to cook, is it?" asked Kitty.

"No,—it's my turn to eat!" And Blue Bonnet, urging Firefly, was off at a lively clip towards camp.

"Please stop, Blue Bonnet," panted Kitty after a few minutes of this sort of going. "I've a dreadful pain in my side."

Blue Bonnet good-naturedly fell back with her, and the rest swept past them with a chorus of taunts for being "quitters." Both girls looked after Comanche and his rider with something like wonder in their eyes. Sarah was riding like a veteran; it was plain that she and Comanche understood each other at last.

"Sarah's coming on, isn't she?" said Kitty.

"Coming?—I think she's arrived!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed.

"She can thank me for picking out Comanche for her," remarked Kitty; she preferred herself to be the object of Blue Bonnet's approbation and could not be roused to much enthusiasm on Sarah's account.

"Considering your motive, Kitty-Kat, I'm not so sure Sarah owes you any gratitude," laughed Blue Bonnet. Suddenly she gave an exclamation. "Why, there's a lamb,—I wonder if it's dead."

"Where?" asked Kitty.

Blue Bonnet pointed to a spot some distance off the road, but Kitty's city-bred eyes could make out nothing. Just then there came a feeble bleat, and in a second Blue Bonnet had slipped from the saddle and handed the reins to Kitty.

"Hold Firefly a minute, please. That is a lamb!"

Kitty obediently held the unwilling Firefly, while Blue Bonnet hurried in the direction of the bleat. A moment later she stooped, and when she straightened up, there was a small woolly object in her arms.

"It's too little to travel and the mean old mother's gone off with the flock," Blue Bonnet said, coming up with the deserted baby.

"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Kitty helplessly.

"I'm going to find the flock. It's been driven along here and inside that fence. I'm going to let down the bars and cross the field. You see the little shanty over there?—I believe there must be a shepherd somewhere about, and I'll give him the lamb. He isn't a very good shepherd or he'd have been looking out for poor little lambs. Shady used to herd sheep and he's told me lots about it."

"And what shall I do?" asked Kitty. "I'm afraid to hold Firefly,—he nearly pulls me off the saddle."

"Then tie both horses to the bars here and help me with the lamb."

Kitty offered no protest. This was so like Blue Bonnet. It was always a stray dog or a lost baby, or an old woman at the poor-house that enlisted her ready sympathy; Kitty ran over a long list in her mind. Of course it had to be a lost lamb or a calf in Texas; the wonder was there hadn't been more of them.

Hastily tying both ponies to a fence-post with a scrambling knot of the reins that would have brought down Blue Bonnet's wrath upon her hapless head, Kitty hastened across the close-cropped meadow. It seemed to her they trudged miles, taking turns carrying the lamb, before they reached the little shack. A stupid young fellow, half-asleep, lay sprawled in the shade.

"Here's a lamb we found by the road," said Blue Bonnet, proffering her woolly burden.

Without uttering a word the sleepy youth took the lamb from her; but Blue Bonnet, observing his manner of handling it, saw that he was wise in the ways of sheep, and she was content to leave her charge with him.

"Flock's over there," he said at length, pointing vaguely with his thumb.

"All right. Come on, Kitty." As they turned away she said in an undertone: "Shady says the herders are alone so much they almost forget how to talk."

"He's evidently forgotten how to say 'thank you,'" Kitty said crossly. "Why, Blue Bonnet—where are the horses?"

"You ought to know. Where did you tie them?"

Kitty's startled eyes rested on the post beside the bars. "To that post there. Oh, Blue Bonnet, some one must have stolen them!"

"Stolen? Who'd steal them, I'd like to know? This comes, Kitty Clark, of letting you hitch a horse!" Blue Bonnet was straining her eyes for a sight of the runaways.

"This comes, Blue Bonnet Ashe, of following you on every wild-goose chase you choose to lead me!" Cross, tired and out of patience, Kitty flared up in one of her sudden outbursts, and Blue Bonnet took fire at once.

"If you think I'm going to let a poor creature starve to death rather than disturb your comfort, you're much mistaken!" An angry glance passed between them.

Sarah, the pacifier, was several miles away by this time; and even she would have felt her resources sorely taxed to meet this emergency. Miles from camp and no horses!

Kitty stalked into the road and started to walk, holding her head high and swinging her arms as though she didn't mind a little matter of five or six miles. Blue Bonnet, with the training of a lifetime, stopped to put up the bars before setting out on the long tramp. It was already noon and the sun glared down, unbearably hot. Before she had gone a mile Blue Bonnet looked about for a mesquite bush, and finding one sank down in its shade. Kitty kept doggedly on.

"Oh, Kitty!" Blue Bonnet called after her. "I've heard of people who hadn't sense enough to come in out of the rain, and I think it's a heap sillier not to have sense enough to come in out of the sun!"

Kitty wavered; and was lost. Turning back she threw herself beside Blue Bonnet with a groan.

"My feet are one big blister," she moaned, her anger swallowed up in the anguish of the moment.

"We can't possibly walk," said Blue Bonnet. "And I've an idea. If that cloud of dust I saw on the road towards camp was Firefly and Rowdy—and it probably was—the girls will soon be after us."

And so it proved; except that it was Alec and Knight instead of the girls who came riding furiously down the road in search of them. When Alec heard Blue Bonnet's ranch-call he threw his hat in the air with a whoop of relief.

"We've been looking for your mangled remains all along the way," he declared, as they reached the girls. "We had the fright of our lives when Firefly and Rowdy came trotting into camp minus their riders."

"You thought we'd been thrown?" Blue Bonnet asked.

"I would have thought so if there had been only one, but it didn't seem likely that both of you could have come a cropper," Knight replied.

"Is Grandmother worried?" Blue Bonnet asked hastily.

"She doesn't know. The girls didn't tell her anything except that you and Kitty had loafed along the way. She didn't see the horses. But we'd better hurry back."

Each boy had led one of the errant ponies, and now the girls mounted and lost no time in getting back to camp.

"I'm so sorry—" Blue Bonnet began to speak as soon as she came within sight of her grandmother, "—I didn't mean to be so late."

"I can't quite understand, Blue Bonnet, why you and Kitty could not come back with the other girls. It is long past noon." Mrs. Clyde had been worried, and required more of an explanation than an apology. Blue Bonnet's tired face and dusty, dishevelled clothes spoke eloquently of adventure.

"I stopped to pick up a lamb,—its mother had gone on with the flock and left it to starve. Shady says lots of sheep don't care about their children. That's why he likes beef-critters best,—cows always make good mothers. And Kitty and I found the shepherd and gave him the lamb to take care of."

The annoyance faded from Grandmother's face and her eyes softened.

Uncle Joe, who had been an interested listener, spoke up—"Say, Honey, why didn't you bring the lamb home?—fresh meat is just what we've been needing."

"Uncle Joe!" Horror rang in Blue Bonnet's voice. "Do you think I'd have eaten that poor little darling?"

He scratched a puzzled head. "Why seems like I've known you to eat nice young roast lamb, Blue Bonnet."

"That's different," she insisted.

"The only acquaintances Blue Bonnet is willing to have roasted are her friends!" said Kitty; and Blue Bonnet generously let her have the last word.



CHAPTER XVII

SECRETS

"THERE'S only one thing nicer than going camping," Blue Bonnet declared.

Her grandmother looked up. "And that is—?"

"Getting home again!" Blue Bonnet laughed happily.

They were in sight of the ranch-house now, and could see the girls and Alec dismounting at the veranda steps. Don and Solomon leaping excitedly about the group, suddenly caught sight of the approaching buckboard and raced madly to meet their mistress. Even the horses seemed glad to be home again and tired as they were with the long day's travel broke into a trot.

Benita's brown face beamed at them from the doorway, and over her shoulder peered Juanita, with eyes only for Miguel.

Kitty had sunk immediately into one of the deep veranda chairs.

"I had to see how it feels to sit in a real live chair with a back once more," she explained. "And next I want to look at myself in a mirror that's more than three inches square; and have a drink out of a glass tumbler; and put on a clean white, fluffy dress!"

They each did all these things as eagerly as if they had been marooned on a desert island for many months; even Grandmother Clyde wearing fresh white linen, and Alec, for the first time on the ranch appearing in a starched shirt. Whereupon the girls broke into deafening applause.

"Letters, letters for everybody!" cried Blue Bonnet bursting into the living-room with a great bundle of mail. "Three for you and one for me, Grandmother,—postmarked Turino. Heaps for you, Kitty, ditto for Sarah, Amanda, Debby, Alec,—all Woodford must have joined in a round-robin. Hurry and read them and then everybody swap news!"

A long silence ensued, as profound as it was rare, while each girl pored over the precious home letters. It was Kitty who looked up first.

"Susy didn't catch the fever,—and Ruth's all over it. And she's had to have all her hair cut off, and she's dreadfully thin and doesn't seem to get her strength back as she should, Father says. He thinks she has fretted over having to miss the ranch party,—and no wonder!—it would simply have killed me. Susy's been a regular trump and hasn't complained a bit, but every one knows it's been a dreadful disappointment, especially when she was perfectly well and could have come if it hadn't been for Ruth."

"It's a downright shame!" Blue Bonnet declared.

"Father says if Ruth doesn't feel better soon she'll probably have to stay out of school this fall," Kitty continued.

"Then I should say she hadn't suffered in vain," exclaimed Blue Bonnet; Grandmother was deep in her letters.

"But think how mean it would be to have one of the We are Sevens out of school. You know how you love to 'have things complete,'" Amanda reminded her.

"Yes, but—" she began; then feeling her grandmother's eyes upon her, failed to finish. It was odd how the girls took it for granted that she was going back with them. And she was not at all sure, herself.

The girls had not noticed her hesitation, and were already exchanging other bits of home news and gossip. Alec alone was silent. Blue Bonnet, stealing a look at him saw that he had finished his letters and was staring moodily out of the window, unmindful of all the gay chatter about him.

"Did you get bad news, Alec?" she asked him, later that evening, as he accompanied her to the stable to see Texas and Massachusetts.

"That depends on the way you look at it. Boyd is coming back from Europe to take the West Point examinations—"

Blue Bonnet smothered an exclamation: she had seen that coming.

"—and Grandfather says that since the Army seems out of the question for me, he thinks I had better hurry home and take the Harvard exams. He seems set on it."

"And you don't want to?"

"It isn't to be thought of." Alec's mouth was very determined.

Now why, if West Point was disposed of, could he not take the next best—or in her opinion the very best—thing that offered? It was on the point of Blue Bonnet's tongue to put the question, when Alec spoke again.

"I've been putting off writing Grandfather,—what I told you a while ago,—thinking I might feel different after a time. But I'm more convinced than ever now. I had a long talk with Knight's friend 'Doc' Abbott, and he gave me a thorough going over, as he called it—"

"And what did he say?"

"He agrees with me, absolutely. There's no Harvard or any other college for Alec Trent—"

"Oh, Alec!" Blue Bonnet was trembling. To hide it she bent and picked up little Texas, stroking one of his silky ears. The coyotes had been placed in the empty rabbit-hutch, and were growing prodigiously.

"Well, it's better to know the truth and face it, isn't it?" Alec asked, as if rather resenting her tone.

"Yes, but—I can't see how you can speak so lightly about it. It's so dreadfully—serious."

"Lightly?" echoed Alec. "You're mistaken, Blue Bonnet. I know it's a mighty serious business for me. Why, if I could view it lightly, I could sit down and write Grandfather about it this very minute—"

"Well, if you don't, I'm going to!" she declared.

"Will you? Oh, Blue Bonnet, that's just what I've been hoping you'd do!" The relief in Alec's tone was unmistakable. "He's mighty fond of you, and I'm sure he'd consider that it came better from you than from me. And it will be a lot easier for you to do it, under the circumstances."

Easier! Blue Bonnet bent hastily and put Texas back in the bunny-house so that Alec might not see her face. If he had not been absorbed in his own thoughts he must have seen what a shock his words had been to her. It was so unlike Alec to put upon a girl a task he felt too hard for himself,—a sort of cowardice of which she would never have believed him capable. It took her some seconds to steady her voice before she could answer:

"I'll write to-morrow."

"You're a trump, Blue Bonnet! I seem to get deeper and deeper into your debt," he said earnestly.

Blue Bonnet fastened the little door of the rabbit-hutch, leaving Texas and Massachusetts to one of their frequent naps, and then walked back to the house in silence. Alec, observing her, believed her to be composing her letter to the General.

"The first of August to-day, just think how our summer is flying!" remarked Amanda next morning.

"Just three weeks to Blue Bonnet's birthday," said Sarah, who was engaged in making some mental calculations.

"Sixteen! Just think how old I'm getting!" Blue Bonnet's smile showed her not at all depressed at the prospect.

Uncle Joe cleared his throat gruffly. Why on earth did everybody keep harping on Blue Bonnet's growing up?

"I reckon you'll be having some howling celebration?" he asked rather crossly.

"You wager we will!" Uncle Cliff replied, all the more cheerfully because he guessed the reason for Uncle Joe's irritation. "A sixteenth birthday only comes once in a lifetime."

Mrs. Clyde, feeling an unusual sympathy with Uncle Joe, was silent.

"We must have some sort of a party that's—different," exclaimed Blue Bonnet.

"Everything's different in Texas," Sarah remarked, and the usual laugh followed.

"We can't have a dance without any boys," Blue Bonnet reflected.

"No boys?" exclaimed Uncle Joe, with a return of his twinkle, "Well, for a ranch that keeps a baker's dozen of cowboys—"

"All Mexicans except Sandy and Pete!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet scornfully.

"I'll agree to furnish a boy apiece for the festive occasion," said Uncle Cliff; and Blue Bonnet, exchanging a glance with him, knew he was nursing a well-laid scheme. "Now, listen," he continued. "I've been thinking over this thing—had time to think this last week!—and I've got it all figured out. My idea is to have an all-day affair, a real old-fashioned Spanish tournament."

Blue Bonnet clapped her hands. "Oh, Uncle Cliff, you do think of the most glorious things!"

"In the morning," Uncle Cliff went on, "we could have a steer-roping contest—the Mexicans adore that—and Senorita Ashe bestow the prizes. And then—"

"Some bronco-busting," suggested Uncle Joe. Blue Bonnet turned pale and Uncle Cliff kicked his foreman under the table.

"None of that," he said briefly. "Too crude for our select company."

"A bull-fight, then," Uncle Joe persisted, "—that's Spanish, and the most seeleck ladies adore the ring."

"Oh, no!" cried Blue Bonnet, before she caught the gleam of mischief in the speaker's eye.

"We might have some races in the pasture," Alec suggested.

"Sure!" exclaimed Uncle Cliff. "And end with a grand fete in the evening,—and give everybody a holiday."

"Won't it be a great deal of work?" Mrs. Clyde inquired.

"Heaps. But these greasers never have enough to do,—we'll make them work for once," Mr. Ashe replied.

"What shall we wear?" Of course it was Kitty who asked.

"Oh, girls, I've the loveliest plan,—you don't mind, do you, Grandmother, if I get out my Spanish costume again?"

Grandmother smiled at a sudden recollection. "No, dear. I think it would fit this occasion admirably."

"But we haven't Spanish costumes!" said Debby and Amanda in a breath.

"Get them!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed. "Any old-fashioned, bright-colored gown will do to begin with, and a lace scarf for mantilla—"

"But where are we to get the gowns,—they don't grow on bushes," demanded Kitty.

"There is such a thing as a post, Kitty, and an express company. And you know your attics at home are full of lovely old things."

"Then we'll have to send right away to get them here in time."

The girls rose as if there were not a moment to lose, and, later in the day, Shady rode to Jonah with a well-filled mail-bag.

Blue Bonnet spent the entire morning over the composition of her letter to General Trent. When she sat down soberly to write Alec's grandfather a plain statement of facts, she found she had no facts to tell,—only a host of vague fears and hints that Alec had uttered from time to time. It was hardly to be wondered at, therefor, that her epistle when finished was pervaded with mystery of a veiled sort that made the General knit his brow, fall into a brown study, and then stalk off to the telegraph office.

It was Uncle Cliff who received the message and the matter aroused no comment. It said simply:

"With your permission will come to Texas. Arrive August twentieth. Prefer Alec should not know."

A telegram just as brief was despatched in reply; and no one was the wiser except Blue Bonnet and Grandmother Clyde. Blue Bonnet was much elated. Telling bad news at long range was something she did not approve of, and it promised to be a far easier solution of the problem to have the General see and learn for himself. It was not easy, however, to keep the matter from Alec, and Blue Bonnet, who had never had a secret of such importance before, had trouble more than once to keep from blurting it out.

The air for the next few days was full of mystery. Preparations for the birthday went forth apace, and the question of gifts was the important topic of the hour. Isolation from shops threw the girls largely upon their own resources; besides, it was known that Mrs. Clyde did not favor anything but the simplest of gifts. Sarah, whose drawn-work had progressed steadily in spite of all obstacles, enjoyed a small triumph, being the only one prepared with a suitable present.

"Now they'll leave me in peace while I finish it," she thought with a sigh of relief.

But it was not altogether peace that Sarah enjoyed, for the other girls took it into their heads to fashion something for Blue Bonnet with their own hands, and sought Sarah's room as the one spot secure from the eyes of the curious.

"What are you going to give Blue Bonnet?" Debby asked Alec one day.

He laughed mysteriously. "I'm aiming to surprise everybody as well as Blue Bonnet. It isn't much of a present, and the surprise is the only thing about it worth while."

Blue Bonnet was obligingly blind and deaf, in these days. Letters flying back and forth, packages by mail or express, she ignored religiously.

"It's a real midsummer Christmas," she said to her grandmother one day, when all the other girls had shut themselves up in Sarah's room. "I thought there never could be anything so exciting and thrilly as getting ready for Christmas in Woodford, but this is running it close!"

"The mistress of the Blue Bonnet ranch is a very important personage these days," said Grandmother.

"She always has been made to feel important here. That's why it was so hard at first when I came to you and Aunt Lucinda." Blue Bonnet drew a low hassock beside her grandmother, and leaned cosily against her in the way they both loved. "You see, having my own way ever since I was old enough to have a way, didn't make it very easy to obey orders. My wishes didn't seem to count much with Aunt Lucinda."

"But they do count, dear. Your aunt is very fond of you, Blue Bonnet, and would grant any reasonable wish if she had it in her power."

"Oh, I understand her better now. It didn't take me very long to realize that she was running that ranch—that's a figure of speech, Grandmother,—and it was my turn to be run."

Mrs. Clyde stroked the brown head lovingly. "I saw the struggle, dear, and I know it was not easy. The things that are worth while don't come without effort."

Blue Bonnet smiled understanding into her grandmother's eyes. "I know. And I'm so glad I wasn't what Uncle Cliff calls a 'quitter.' Sticking it out was pretty hard, but it's made me feel more—worthy, somehow, to be sixteen!"

Mystery reached its highest point the next day when Kitty, who had been absorbed in a bulky letter from home, suddenly gave a shrill scream of excitement, and summoning the other three girls, fled to Sarah's room. The high-pitched chatter and ejaculations that issued from that quarter made even Alec curious. Going around the house he hung on to the window-ledge and begged to be let into the secret.

"We want to surprise everybody!" said Debby revengefully.

Alec dropped to the ground and walked away in high amusement. Let them keep their secret then; he was sure he knew a surprise worth two of it. Then he betook himself to the Mexican quarters to note the progress of his own gift for Blue Bonnet.



CHAPTER XVIII

SOME ARRIVALS

THE birthday celebration really began on the day before the birthday. Uncle Cliff had driven to the railway station early in the day, and long before it was time for him to be back, five pairs of eyes began searching the road for a sight of the returning buckboard. The We are Sevens, observing Blue Bonnet to be as expectant as they, became apprehensive lest their great secret should have leaked out. For her part, Blue Bonnet had become so used to seeing the girls impatient for the arrival of the mail, that their frequent running to the veranda to peer down the road, occasioned her only amusement.

How little they suspected what a valuable package that buckboard would contain!

This was the twentieth of August. Every time Blue Bonnet thought of the great surprise in store for Alec, she grew first excited, then afraid. How would he take his grandfather's arrival? One minute she was sure he would be overwhelmingly glad, for Alec had a deep affection for the "grand old man." The next, she was afraid he would think she had shirked her bargain by throwing on him the burden of telling the General his own bad news. Well, this time she had truly done her best, let the results be what they might.

"Do what is right let the consequence follow!" she sagely remarked to Solomon, and he put up his paw as if to say: "Shake on that!"

She was in her garden picking flowers for the table. Indoors was a delightful flurry of preparation: from the kitchen came a clatter of pans, and a variety of appetizing odors; above the cackle of Lisa and Gertrudis rang the merry laugh of Juanita as she waited on the busy cooks; while Miguel could be seen haunting the region of the back door.

Out on the long-disused croquet-ground, which Uncle Joe had levelled and tamped for Blue Bonnet years before, Alec and several of the cowboys were working, converting it into a dancing ground, and hanging Chinese lanterns on long wires strung between the surrounding trees.

"It's certainly worth while having a birthday on the ranch," Blue Bonnet thought happily. All this bustle of preparation to celebrate the birthday of a Texas Blue Bonnet!

Hark! Wasn't that the rattle of wheels? Yes,—there came the buckboard at last. Blue Bonnet sprang up excitedly. Had Alec heard? She shot a look in the direction of the croquet-ground.

Alec had heard; had glanced at the cloud of dust that marked the approaching team, and then—had gone calmly on with his work. He was looking for travellers on horseback, and the buckboard's arrival won only slight notice from him. He would let the girls spring their surprise on Blue Bonnet and have the hubbub over before he intruded.

"Alec!" called Blue Bonnet in a fever of excitement; but he merely waved to her indulgently and went on fitting a candle into a socket with exasperating slowness.

With her arms full of flaming poppies, Blue Bonnet flew to the house and reached the veranda just as the other girls poured from the door, and the buckboard came to a standstill. There was the General, and beside him—Blue Bonnet gasped as she saw—was a boyish figure with close-cropped hair.

The poppies fell to the ground in a brilliant heap, and the moment that Susy and Ruth alighted Blue Bonnet gathered them both in an ecstatic hug. But not for long was she permitted a monopoly. These newly arrived two-sevenths were passed from hand to hand, or, more literally, from arm to arm, and caressed and exclaimed over until Mrs. Clyde came to the rescue of the tired girls.

The General's arrival had become of quite secondary importance. He stood talking to the Senora until Blue Bonnet at last turned to him apologetically.

"I'm very glad to see you!" she said.

General Trent took her outstretched hand and smiled down into the eager flushed face. "You are very good to say so. A mere man is decidedly de trop on such an occasion!"

"No, you're not! Only I was expecting you and I wasn't expecting Susy and Ruth,—so I rather lost my head. How did you happen to bring the girls?"

"I didn't bring them, really. Dr. Clark wanted them to have a change of air, and when Mrs. Doyle heard I was coming here she asked if I would mind playing escort to her girls,—a change of air spelt only Texas to them, it seems. My delight may better be imagined than described, and—here we are. Ah, Miss Kitty, you see me at last!" He paused to shake hands with the young lady, and then the others came shyly up with greetings.

"You didn't know I had a surprise up my sleeve, did you?" Blue Bonnet challenged the girls.

"You must wear long sleeves!" laughed Kitty, tilting her chin to look up at the tall military figure.

The General laughed with the rest but Blue Bonnet could see him looking about with some impatience. "Where's Alec?" he asked finally.

"We'll go find him. Take everybody indoors, will you, Grandmother? I'll be back in a minute." Looking particularly small and slight, Blue Bonnet moved off with her tall companion towards the croquet-ground, where Alec, all unconscious of their approach, stood on a step-ladder adjusting one of the paper lanterns.

"How is the boy by this time?" General Trent asked.

"I—I don't know," Blue Bonnet stammered. It was quite true; she had given up trying to guess the state of Alec's health.

The horizontal line between the General's eyes grew deeper: it was plain that the girl shrank from telling him the worst.

Alec had started to descend the ladder when he caught sight of the approaching pair. For a second he stood transfixed with surprise; then with a real cowboy "whoop" of joy, took a flying leap from his perch, cleared various obstacles with a bound, and literally fell upon his grandfather.

"How splendid of you to come, sir!" was all he could exclaim for some minutes.

Finally the General took him by the shoulders and held him off, looking him over from head to foot. Blue Bonnet saw a look of incredulous wonder grow in his eyes, as he took in the increased breadth of the boy, the erect carriage and the red that glowed through the sunburn of his rounded cheeks.

"Why, boy, how you've grown!"

"Have I?" asked Alec eagerly. "Never felt so well before in all my life!"

Well? Blue Bonnet felt her face grow hot. How could Alec say that when he had let her—even urged her—to write that letter to his grandfather? If it was a joke, it struck her that Alec must have developed rather poor taste in jokes. She could feel the General's eyes upon her, questioning mutely. She could not meet his glance yet, and said with elaborate carelessness:

"I reckon you two would like to have a little talk, and the girls are waiting for me." She sped back to the house, and soon forgot her indignation in the joy of the We are Sevens' reunion.

"It seems too good to be true!" she exclaimed, gazing happily from one girl to another, as the seven of them lounged about the living-room, three on the broad couch and the rest distributed impartially between the floor and the window-seat. Such complete informality had never seemed permissible in the sedate Clyde mansion; but somehow these surroundings seemed to invite one to be as comfortable and unconventional as possible.

Suddenly Blue Bonnet's eyes danced. "Doesn't this remind you of my first tea-party?" she asked demurely.

"Well, I should say not!" Kitty exclaimed. "We all sat around your grandmother's drawing-room with manners as stiff as our dresses, waiting for our hostess—"

"And wondering what you would be like—" added Sarah.

"Were you prepared to see the wild Indian I proved to be?"

"Fishing!" sang Kitty.

Susy looked from Blue Bonnet to Kitty and laughed. "My, this sounds like old times!"

"Stop talking about old times, please," begged Ruth, "and tell us about the new ones. I want to be told all about the round-up, and I want to see the 'vast herds' and the cowboys,—and the blue bonnets!"

Blue Bonnet's laugh rang out. "Blue bonnets in August! Come in March and I'll show you a sea of them,—and a round-up, too. The cattle and the cowboys you shall see to-morrow,—and some steer-roping that will make your hair stand on end."

Ruth ran her hand through her boyish, close-cut locks and made them stand literally on end. "It isn't much of a trick to do that!" she said with a grimace.

"Never mind, maybe it will come in curly," said Sarah the comforter.

"You can trust Sarah not to see the thorns for the roses," said Blue Bonnet, sending the comforter an approving glance.

"What turtle doves you all are," laughed Susy.

"Oh, it's Sarah and Blue Bonnet who do all the cooing. The rest of us are still just geese." Kitty's voice had a tinge of envy that did not escape the notice of the rest.

"Go play us something, Blue Bonnet," suggested Ruth tactfully, "—that cowboy piece we all like."

"Invalids must be humored," remarked Blue Bonnet as she went to the piano.

In a minute the little rollicking air that she had played at her first tea-party, had set them all to dancing and humming as on that historic occasion.

"Aren't Kitty and Blue Bonnet as chummy as they used to be?" Ruth asked Amanda under cover of the music.

"Yes, by spells. They had one tiff—the second since they've known each other,—and ever since we've lived in dread of the third, haven't we, Sarah?"

"You have," Sarah returned. "And I have too, in fact, though I try not to be superstitious. Besides they've had the third—and it's all over now."

"They have? When?" Amanda sat up in surprise.

"While we were camping. Kitty told me about it and said it was all her fault. The last one wasn't, you know. First it's one and then the other that's to blame."

"Kitty and Blue Bonnet aren't going to stop at three tiffs, you may depend on it," Ruth said wisely. "They're going to have three times three and then some. Because Kitty is Kitty, and Blue Bonnet is—Blue Bonnet!"

As the gay music ceased Grandmother Clyde looked in at the door. "It is time for the travellers to rest. They must be fresh for the great occasion to-morrow," she said, nodding to Susy and Ruth.

Blue Bonnet glanced over to the couch where Ruth reclined among the pillows. Her face, with its crown of short dark hair, looked very thin and white.

"I reckon the girls had better go to your room, Grandmother,—it's about the only place where they can be quiet. Benita is putting two cots in the nursery, but it's never quiet in there till we're all asleep."

Ruth rose regretfully, "I'll go rest if I must. But I hate to miss anything that's going on. If you only knew how deadly dull it has been in Woodford! I think the inhabitants have learned to appreciate the We are Sevens, for the place has seemed empty without them. And everybody wants to know when the Texas Blue Bonnet is coming back."

They all looked towards Blue Bonnet. "I—why—there's Uncle Cliff looking for me," she said, and left the room precipitately.

"Blue Bonnet's usual way of avoiding an answer," thought Kitty.

"When does the Fall term of school begin?" asked Sarah.

"The tenth of September,—and that means we must leave here about the third," said Susy. "Only two weeks of this for us, girls!"

"We'll see that they are two busy weeks," Kitty promised.

Blue Bonnet drew Uncle Cliff into a secluded spot on the side veranda. "You just saved my life, Uncle Cliff."

"Were you being talked to death, Honey?"

"No,—but I just escaped a pitfall. People do ask the most—uncomfortable questions."

"Suppose you tell me what sort?"

"Well, Ruth says people want to know when the Texas Blue Bonnet is going back to Woodford."

"So that's come up again, eh?" Uncle Cliff knitted his brow. "I reckon you're doing some thinking along that line, Blue Bonnet?" He watched her face anxiously.

She nodded. "Yes, I—you see there isn't much time left. I must decide soon. It's not going to be easy, Uncle Cliff."

"No,—not for either of us, Honey."

"And there's Grandmother, too,—and Aunt Lucinda. Other people seem to have a lot to say about one's life, don't they?"

"They have a lot to say, Blue Bonnet, but the person who has the final 'say' is yourself. You're old enough now to decide what you want to do with your life. Sixteen to-morrow!"

"I know what I want to do with my life, Uncle, but I don't know yet just how to do it."

"Don't you think you could manage to do it on the ranch? We know now where to get a first-class tutor, and—"

"Oh, as far as 'book-learnin''—as Uncle Joe calls it,—goes, I reckon I could get that all right, here on the ranch with a tutor. But books, I've found out, aren't more than half of an education. You know, life's mighty simple on the ranch, and I've grown used to doing things the easiest way. But that isn't the big way. Aunt Lucinda says every woman should have a vocation."

Uncle Cliff squirmed. Blue Bonnet seemed to have assimilated a rather big dose of Aunt Lucinda. "But, Honey," he protested, "a girl with plenty of money doesn't need a vocation."

"Oh, she didn't mean that kind of a vocation. It's a sort of glorified way of doing your duty by your neighbor. And you know it isn't very easy to do your duty by your neighbor when the nearest neighbor is miles away! Now, Aunt Lucinda is the most all-round useful person. She's helping to keep up a home for cripples in Boston, and is secretary of the Church Aid Society, runs Grandmother's house and—"

"Everybody in it!" added Uncle Cliff.

Blue Bonnet slipped her hand into his with a sympathetic pressure.

"I reckon I caught it from you,—liking to paddle my own canoe, I mean. But, though I don't love discipline, I've learned to appreciate what it can do. Now, look at Solomon—"

"—in all his glory!" laughed Uncle Cliff.

At that moment the subject of the conversation was occupied in gnawing a very dirty bone on the forbidden territory of the veranda.

"Oh, he has his lapses," Blue Bonnet confessed, "—his forgettery is as active as mine. But he's hardly more than a puppy yet, and it's surprising how well he minds. He's getting pretty wild out here. The ranch has that effect I've observed. And that's why—"

"Say, Honey," Uncle Cliff interrupted, "let's allow the subject of going back to rest right where it is until after to-morrow, will you? I want to enjoy my ward's birthday, and I'd rather have a clear sky without any clouds on my horizon."

"That suits me, Uncle Cliff."

"And while we're on the subject of the birthday, there's something I want to tell you, Blue Bonnet. I know it's usual to keep one's gift a secret, but—"

"Oh, I hope it's just some simple thing, Uncle. Grandmother's been looking pretty serious lately over what she thinks is our extravagant way of living. The Woodford girls have to be very careful about expenses, you know, and she thinks it makes it harder for them to be satisfied when they see me have so much."

"Don't you worry, young lady. I'm only taking a leaf out of your book, and instead of giving pleasure to just one person—i. e. Blue Bonnet Ashe,—I'm going to distribute it over quite a crowd. The trouble is it won't keep till to-morrow. It's about due now. Jump on Firefly, will you, and ride with me to meet it?"

"Yes, everybody is resting, or supposed to be. Just wait till I slip on my riding-skirt and I'll be with you."

A few minutes later Blue Bonnet and her uncle, after the fashion of the old days, cantered down the road together.

Hardly had they disappeared when Kitty, also attired in riding-costume, stole quietly to the stable, and having found one of the Mexicans to saddle Rowdy, rode briskly out of the corral and off to the woods across San Franciscito.

At the gate Uncle Cliff drew rein. "We'd better form a reception committee right here. I think I hear your birthday present coming."

Blue Bonnet looked down the road expectantly. What could it be?

Then, as they waited, there came the rhythmic pound of hoofs, a cloud of dust, and suddenly there swept into sight a company of riders with Knight and Carita in the lead.

"Oh, Uncle Cliff, what a splendid birthday present!" And Blue Bonnet, with a glad "Ho ye, ho ho!" of welcome, galloped to meet the procession.

Sandy and the three "props of the world"—Smith, Brown and Jones, with two of the younger boys from camp—made, as Uncle Cliff had promised, a "boy apiece" for the We are Sevens and Carita; and the entire party, dusty though they were from the long ride, were incorrigibly cheerful and apparently not at all tired by the trip.

"Oh, I'm so happy!" cried Carita, as Blue Bonnet fell in beside her and led the way to the ranch. "I never dreamed I could come. But Mr. Ashe had made all arrangements, and Mother said she could get along without me for the three days,—she's going to stay at the Camp. Just think, if we hadn't gone up there again, I couldn't have known about it in time!"

"How lucky! Carita, I think you are the nicest birthday present that was ever thought of."

Carita looked up in surprise.

"Having you and Knight and the boys here is my birthday gift from Uncle," Blue Bonnet explained. "Wasn't it downright grand of him to plan it?"

"It's sweet of you to want us," Carita returned. "And your uncle looks as if he loved to do nice things. He has the kindest eyes I've ever seen."

"Except your father's," Blue Bonnet added. "I think they must both have been cut out by the same pattern."

Alec, who was in the secret, had assembled everybody on the veranda awaiting the arrivals, and the hubbub that ensued as the cavalcade dismounted and everybody exchanged greetings, convinced Susy, Ruth and the General that life in Texas was quite as exciting as it had been painted.

Mrs. Clyde, having been prepared by Uncle Cliff for this invasion, tried to view the proceedings as a matter of course, and was her usual cordial self.

"Where are we going to put them all?" Blue Bonnet asked in an undertone.

"Shady and Uncle Joe put up a tent as soon as you rode off," her grandmother explained. "The boys are used to camping out and there are only two nights to plan for. Carita can share Sarah's room. Lisa has enlarged the dining-room table, and we shall have room for all. I hope we can make our guests comfortable."

"Don't you worry, Grandmother. These guests will make the best of everything. People out here don't expect things to be—orderly, as they are in Woodford."

"Evidently not!" was Grandmother's unspoken thought.

"Where's Kitty?" asked Blue Bonnet presently, missing one saucy face from the group on the side veranda where they had all gathered.

"Didn't she go with you? We haven't seen her for an hour or more," replied Sarah.

"Here she comes now." Alec rose and went to assist Kitty from her horse. "Hello, Miss Unsociable," he said. "Fancy riding all by your lones! Been keeping a tryst?"

"Nothing so romantic," she confessed. "I've been gathering these lovely wild vines to decorate the table with. See how pretty they are!" She tossed the big armful of glossy green stuff down to him. To her surprise and indignation Alec dodged her offering and let the vines fall in a heap on the ground. Kitty paused in the act of dismounting and stared at him, speechless with surprise at this act from well-bred Alec.

"I beg your pardon, Kitty," he laughed. "I didn't mean to be rude, but I'm deadly afraid of that stuff."

"Stuff!" echoed Kitty. She was off her horse in a minute, and giving the reins to Miguel who had come up for Rowdy, she bent to pick up her insulted treasure.

Alec prevented her. "I wouldn't, Kitty,—though I don't suppose it matters now. The mischief's done, I'm afraid,—that's poison ivy."

"Poison ivy!" Kitty sprang back as if the vine were about to sting her. "I never saw any before,—and I wanted to surprise Blue Bonnet—it looked so pretty. Oh, Alec, are you sure?"

"Sure?—positive. Dr. Judson pointed out lots of it around Camp, and we learned to give it a wide berth. But say, every one isn't susceptible, Kitty. Maybe you're immune."

"Oh, dear!" wailed Kitty. "What shall I do? Can't I be vaccinated or something to ward it off?"

"What's the trouble?" asked Uncle Joe, coming up in time to hear Kitty's despairing cry.

"Poison ivy," said Alec, pointing to the vines.

"Now that's bad." Uncle Joe kicked the innocent looking heap of greens off to one side. "I'll send up one of the boys to rake that up and get rid of it. Nasty stuff to have around,—'specially for folks with your—coloring." He eyed Kitty's milk-white freckled face apprehensively.

"If I get it and have to miss the party I'll never get over it!" Kitty declared.

"Oh, yes, you will—it only lasts a few days, generally," said Uncle Joe.

Kitty dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Here—don't do that!" Alec exclaimed hastily. "That might play the mischief with your eyes. Go bathe your face and hands with witch hazel, that may help. And hurry out again, Kitty—your friend Sandy is on the side veranda."

Kitty for the first time glanced towards the house and saw the latest arrivals. "Carita, too! Have they come to the party? Oh, what fun! That's what Mr. Ashe meant when he promised us a boy apiece for the dance. But oh, Alec—what if—?" Kitty could not finish.

"Please don't get it, Kitty,—it would spoil the day for Sandy!"



CHAPTER XIX

BLUE BONNET'S BIRTHDAY

"SIXTEEN to-day!" was Blue Bonnet's first thought as she opened her eyes next morning.

Could it be only a year since her last birthday? Less than a year since she had first seen Grandmother? Why, it seemed now as if she must have known Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda all her life! She tried to remember how she used to feel before she ever left the ranch; before she had ever seen Woodford, or the We are Sevens, or—but the list seemed interminable; she gave up trying to recall how the Blue Bonnet of that careless time had thought and felt and spent her days.

Was every year to bring as many new experiences, as many new faces into her life? Surely not if she stayed on the ranch, and if she went— But Uncle Cliff had said that question was to be banished for this day.

Rising and dressing noiselessly, she stole out of the nursery for one of her usual early morning romps. Being sixteen should not rob her of the right to be a child at this hour of the day!

"Wish me many happy returns, Solomon!" she cried as the dogs raced to her across the yard. "Don, this is the fifth occasion of this sort you've attended,—you're getting on in years, too. Come on, I'll race you to the fence!"

Uncle Cliff watched her from the pasture, a chuckle of satisfaction escaping him at this evidence of untamed tomboyism. He met her as she came up flushed and breathless.

"Getting mighty dignified since you turned sixteen, aren't you?"

Her laughing face peered at him over the rough old logs. "Not so you'd notice it!"

"I reckon I ought to thump you sixteen times and one to grow on. But that would make it necessary to climb the fence. How would you like kisses instead?"

"Give me the big one to grow on, anyway." She held up her lips. "And now I must run in to Grandmother,—she must have the next."

She found the Senora waiting for her in the living-room.

"I'm so glad you're alone, Grandmother. I wanted you all to myself for a minute or two." She went straight into the arms Grandmother held out to her, was folded close for a moment and received a second kiss "to grow on."



"While we're alone I want to tell you something," Blue Bonnet said earnestly, "—about this last year, I mean. I never have said just what I've felt. It has been the best of all years, Grandmother, and the best of all the good things it has brought me—is you."

"Thank you, dear. And you must know, Blue Bonnet, without my telling you how great a comfort you are to me."

"Truly, Grandmother,—a comfort?"

"Beyond words, dear." And Grandmother gave her another kiss to grow on. "And now, Blue Bonnet, here is something for your birthday."

Blue Bonnet took the dainty package and unwrapped it with fingers that trembled a little. Within the paper was a box, and inside that, looking out from a frame of dull Roman gold, was her mother's face. It was an exquisite miniature, painted on ivory. The rose-tints of the flesh and the deep tender blue of the eyes that smiled up at her, made the portrait seem a living thing. Blue Bonnet could not speak. She gazed and gazed at the dear features until her eyes blurred and she had to put up her hand to brush the tears away.

"Oh, Grandmother—!" Her lip quivered and she could say no more.

But Grandmother understood.

"Your aunt had it done from a photograph while she was in Rome. The painter was a Boston woman—an old friend of ours who knew your mother, Blue Bonnet. That is why the coloring is so true. The eyes are your eyes—can't you see, dear?"

"Am I truly like her?"

"So like, Blue Bonnet, that sometimes it seems as if Elizabeth had never left me."

"I'm glad, Grandmother. Oh, how I shall treasure this! How can I ever thank you and Aunt Lucinda? There come the others,—I think I won't show them this just now. I'd rather let them see it one at a time. Somehow a crowd—"

"I understand, Blue Bonnet."

It was well that she and her grandmother had made the most of that quiet five minutes before breakfast; for it was the last peaceful moment that day.

As all the gay party trooped into the dining-room with its long table looking like a real banquet board, a big floral decoration was the first thing to greet all eyes. A long low basket of closely woven fibres formed a centrepiece, and inside it, growing so densely that only a vivid mass of blue showed above the brim, were blue bonnets in bloom.

"How sweet! Where did they come from?" Blue Bonnet demanded, looking from face to face.

"There's a card on the handle," some one suggested.

Blue Bonnet bent and read: "Blue Bonnet's namesakes wish her many happy returns of the day." Looking up she caught Alec's eye. "You?" she asked.

"Guilty!" he confessed.

"You clever boy! You couldn't have given me anything I should love as much. How did you ever do it?"

"Easy enough. Planted the seeds and took care of them,—had a bad scare for fear they wouldn't bloom in time. I've had them back of Marta's cabin and she's been sitting up nights with them!"

They all crowded about the table for a closer view.

"I'm so glad we can see some blue bonnets before leaving. That's been the one thing necessary to complete Texas!" exclaimed Kitty.

"Sure you don't mean ivy?" asked Alec in an undertone.

She wilted. "Sh! Please don't remind me of that,—I was almost happy again!"

"No symptoms yet?" he asked.

"None—yet. I live in hopes!"

"Let's wait till after breakfast before we give Blue Bonnet our gifts," suggested Sarah. "She'll enjoy them more, I think."

"Not to mention our enjoyment!" laughed Kitty.

The suggestion was followed, and at the conclusion of the meal, Blue Bonnet kept her seat and opened the rest of her packages with the eyes of all the crowd upon her. Very simple were the gifts, as the Woodford girls had slender purses; but the love and good will that went with the presents made up for their lack of material value.

From Kitty there was a dainty sewing apron of muslin, with pretty blue bows on the pockets; from Amanda, a fancy-work bag, and from Debby a complicated needlecase. A silver thimble from Susy and Ruth completed these very feminine accessories.

Alec's eyes twinkled as Blue Bonnet tried the thimble on her slender finger-tip. "If you're not a model of industry after this, Blue Bonnet, it will prove you're rather slow at taking a hint!"

The girls joined heartily in the laugh against them, though they professed entire innocence of any such intention as Alec implied.

Sarah's gift provoked a chorus of exclamations. From the fine drawn-work, the hand-made tucks, to the tiny irreproachable buttonholes, the waist was a triumph of the needlewoman's art.

"It's the prettiest one I ever had!" Blue Bonnet declared. She would have liked to jump up and kiss Sarah, the dear old thing! But with eight boys looking on, such a demonstration might appear done for effect, she concluded; and so reserved that mark of affection for a future occasion.

When the girls had presented their offerings, Knight came up and dropped a paper parcel into her lap. On the card tied to the blue ribbon that decorated it was written: "To the Good Samaritan from the One Who Fell by the Wayside." There was a laugh in Knight's eyes as he watched her read the inscription and then unwrap the tissue-paper that enclosed the object.

Blue Bonnet lifted the lid of the long narrow box, took one look, and met Knight's eyes with an answering laugh in her own. Inside the box was a shimmering red silk sash. Knight had kept his promise to himself to buy Blue Bonnet the "fanciest thing in the sash line that Chicago could boast"—even though it had taken the last penny of his pocket money.

"It's a beauty!" she declared.

"Knight must expect another spill to-day," laughed Alec.

Blue Bonnet looked about the circle with a bright, quick glance. "I'm not going to try to say 'thank you' to everybody,—those two words would be quite worn out by the time I finished!"

"Come along, everybody," said Uncle Cliff, "it's time for the festivities to begin."

As they left the dining-room, Carita slipped her arm about Blue Bonnet and whispered regretfully: "I wish I had a present for you. I didn't know in time or I could have made something."

Blue Bonnet gave her an impulsive squeeze. "Why, Carita, you're a birthday present yourself!"

Blue Bonnet's promise to Ruth in regard to the steer-roping contest, proved almost literally true. This was the great feature of the day to the Mexicans, and their delight in the sport knew no bounds. They made a brilliant picture as they stood or squatted about the corral gate, the women in their bright yellow, red and purple calicoes; and the men in their tight trousers, serapes rainbow hued, gay sashes and enormous peaked hats. The scene was full of life, color and motion.

Ruth's thin cheeks grew pink with excitement. "What's going to happen first?" she asked Blue Bonnet.

"You see those steers inside the gate? Well, Pancho will drive one out and while it is running like mad, Josef—he has the first turn—will lasso, throw it, and tie its feet together with that short rope he has. Then, one after another, the rest of the cowboys will do the same thing, and the one that does it in the shortest time will get the prize and be declared champion of the Blue Bonnet ranch."

"The world's record is thirty-seven seconds," Knight added, "but it has to be a hustler who can do it under a minute."

"Look—there comes one now!" screamed Kitty.

The contest was swift, breathless and soon over. The corral gate was opened and through it driven a steer. Outside, mounted on a swift cow-pony rode Josef, awaiting the signal to start in pursuit. On came the steer with long frightened leaps, after him the vaquero with lariat whirling around his head. Suddenly the rope whistled, hissed through the air, dropped and coiled about the steer's front feet. A quick movement on the part of both rider and horse; the lariat tightened, and the steer pitched on to its side. Josef leaped from his pony, bent over his victim, and, in far less time than it takes to tell it, had tied three of the kicking hoofs together. The cowboy rose, grinning, amid the cheers of the delighted audience; and remounting his horse, coolly rolled a cigarette.

"Sixty-three seconds," said Knight, who was time-keeper.

One after another the cowboys took their turns, and every fraction of a second shaved from Josef's record, sent the Mexicans wild with excitement. It was Lupe who was finally declared champion, and received from Blue Bonnet's hands the silver-braided Mexican sombrero that was the prize.

"I wonder why Miguel didn't try," Blue Bonnet remarked, as Lupe walked proudly away with his trophy. "He's always been able to beat Lupe."

"I asked Pancho where Miguel was," said Alec, "and he said no one had seen him to-day. Maybe Juanita objects to steer-roping!" They smiled with a secret understanding.

"How do you like the sport?" Blue Bonnet asked, turning to Ruth.

"It's exciting,—but isn't it cruel, Blue Bonnet?"

"I reckon the steer thinks so," Blue Bonnet confessed. "But the cowboys have to practise, you know, for at the round-up that's the way they have to throw the calves to brand them."

"Then I don't want to see a round-up!" Ruth declared.

Next came races in the pasture, and in these the girls and boys were the contestants. Blue ribbons were the awards pinned on the winners by Blue Bonnet herself, and the rivalry for them was intense. Leaning against the pasture fence which formed the "grandstand" General Trent, Uncle Cliff, Uncle Joe, Mrs. Clyde, Susy, Ruth and Blue Bonnet watched and applauded; while the Mexicans, squatting about in characteristic attitudes, chattered and laughed like a lot of children.

As Sarah swept by on Comanche to take her place at the starting-line, Ruth and Susy turned amazed and questioning eyes on Blue Bonnet. She laughed at their expressions of wonder.

"Keep your eye on Sarah!" she bade them. "Comanche is one of the swiftest horses on the ranch, and he and our Sallykins are on the best of terms."

To Blue Bonnet's secret delight Sarah won the first race. As she pinned the blue ribbon to the winner's middy blouse, her own face beamed the triumph that Sarah was too modest to betray.

"Aren't you going in for any others?" Ruth asked, as Sarah returned on foot and dropped on the blanket beside her.

"No, I only rode in that race to keep the girls from calling me 'fraid-cat.' I'm sure Father wouldn't approve of horse-racing."

Ruth laughed. "You are the same old Sarah! I was beginning to believe that the Blue Bonnet ranch had bewitched you."

"Don't say 'bewitched,'" Blue Bonnet interrupted, "locoed is the word we use in Texas."

The birthday dinner, served early as was the custom at the ranch, was the most animated of feasts, of which the birthday-cake with its sixteen blazing candles was the grand climax. It was fat Lisa herself who waddled in and deposited her masterpiece in front of the Senorita, and then lingered to see how it looked after cutting.

"It's divine, Lisa,—a complete success!" Blue Bonnet cried, and the cook grinned delightedly. As Lisa turned to leave the room, Blue Bonnet detained her to whisper—"Why is Benita waiting on table alone?—where's Juanita?"

"Who knows?" returned Lisa with a shrug of her massive shoulders. "That nina is run off and Gertrudis means to thrash her."

"Oh, Lisa, she mustn't!" Blue Bonnet said in genuine distress. "Tell Gertrudis I'll come out and see her after dinner."

She found Gertrudis slamming about the dishes in a most reckless fashion and muttering to herself angrily. To Blue Bonnet's plea in behalf of the absent Juanita she returned only stormy answers.

"No, Senorita, she is spoiled for lack of thrashing. Run off on the Senorita's birthday! With a horde to wait on! And enough work for fifty lazy things like herself!"

No, Juanita should be thrashed if ever she could lay hands on her. Blue Bonnet could not sway her from her purpose, and finally gave up arguing and left the kitchen, vowing mentally to prevent the angry old woman from carrying out her threat. But in the excitement of the evening's festivities, she forgot all about it.

What an evening it was! Not one of the boys and girls lucky enough to be there would ever forget the scene. The broad verandas on which half the furniture of the house had been brought to form cosy-corners and lounging places; the soft gleam of Chinese lanterns strung among the trees; the music of Shady's violin, augmented by a flute and cello from Jonah, to which they danced on the croquet-ground; and everywhere the We are Sevens, stately in trains and hair dressed high, tripping and laughing and flirting their fans in the manner fondly believed to be that of high-born Spanish dames.

Susy and Ruth had obligingly crammed their trunks with the attic treasures of the various Woodford families, and the costumes, while not strictly Spanish, were quite gorgeous and "partified" enough to satisfy these finery-loving young folk. Among them they had managed to fit out Carita too, and she, in a yellow gown with velvety gold-of-Ophir roses in the dusky coils of her hair, looked like a real maid of Andalusia. Blue Bonnet, in her red satin gown, which had not seen the light since the night it had been worn for the benefit of the Boston relatives, was a picture.

Alec came up to her in the middle of the evening and made a low bow. "Senorita Blue Bonnetta, you look charming to-night, but it strikes me you're carrying things with a high hand. Why, among all your humble subjects, am I not favored with a dance or promenade? You've been engaged three deep every time I've asked you."

For a minute Blue Bonnet toyed with her fan without speaking. She had purposely avoided Alec for a reason she considered good and sufficient. There was an explanation due her from him, and that also, she was resolved, should be "good and sufficient" or she would not accept it. And it seemed best, if there was to be any clash between them, that it should not come on her birthday. She would not easily forgive him for urging her to write that letter to the General.

As she hesitated and a surprised look crept into Alec's eyes, there came a great outcry from the direction of Marta's cabin,—shouts, cheers and bursts of laughter.

"The Mexicans must be doing stunts,—let's go and see," Alec suggested.

Gathering up her train Blue Bonnet hurried with him to the Mexican quarters, where the noisy crowd had assembled. Half way there they met Gertrudis, also headed for the scene of merriment.

"It's that Juanita, they say," she cried, "come back after all the work's done!" Her swarthy face was dark with anger; in her hand was a willow switch.

"Hurry!" cried Blue Bonnet. "Let's get there first, Alec,—she means to thrash Juanita!"

Running and tripping on her long dress Blue Bonnet reached the group and at her appearance the Mexicans burst into renewed cheering.

"The Senorita!" they cried and parted to make room for her.

"What is it—what's all the noise about?" asked Alec.

But, as the circle parted, revealing a tableau in the centre, he and Blue Bonnet needed no explanation. Standing hand in hand, in attitudes expressing both embarrassment and triumph, were—Miguel and Juanita.

"Ran off to Jonah and got married!" chuckled Pinto Pete.

Blue Bonnet and Alec gazed at each other in stupefaction for a second, then Blue Bonnet glanced hastily about for Gertrudis. The change in the old woman was instantaneous. She turned to Blue Bonnet with a grin.

"That Miguel makes good wages!" she cried. The anger had faded from her face, and instead of the switch, Juanita received her blessing.

"What a mercenary old thing Gertrudis is!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet, as, after congratulating the happy pair, she and Alec walked back to the house.

"She's a sensible woman," Alec remarked provokingly. "Most of the Mexicans are lazy old loafers,—but Miguel has a streak of real American industry."

"Well," said Blue Bonnet, "I little expected my birthday party to be turned into a wedding!"

When the last candle had been blown out and all was quiet except for the echo of music and laughter from the Mexican quarters, where the wedding festivities were continued almost till dawn, Blue Bonnet slipped into her grandmother's room for a last word before retiring.

"The sixteenth has been the best birthday of all," she said happily. "Are you quite tired out, Grandmother?"

And Mrs. Clyde, bending to kiss the glowing face upturned to her, replied: "No, dear. It has been a beautiful party. But I'm glad for all our sakes that Blue Bonnet Ashe has but one birthday a year!"



CHAPTER XX

CONFERENCES

IT was well on towards noon before any one in either the house or tent was stirring. Blue Bonnet and Ruth were the first to open their eyes, and they carried on a conversation in whispers for some time before waking the others.

Ruth looked around the six beds in the nursery and smiled. "It looks like a ward in a hospital, doesn't it?"

"Pretty healthy looking invalids in them," Blue Bonnet replied. "Look what red cheeks Kitty has."

Ruth raised herself and leaned on one elbow, peering at the unconscious Kitty. "Red as fire. Doesn't she look funny?"

"Makes her hair look pale!" laughed Blue Bonnet. All at once, as she studied the face that looked a brilliant scarlet against the white pillow, the smile faded from her face. "Ruth, come here," she said in a queer tone.

Ruth obediently stole from her bed and tiptoed to Blue Bonnet's side.

"Look at Kitty hard."

"Doesn't she look strange?" Ruth whispered.

A sudden thought made Blue Bonnet start. "Ruth, were you fumigated before you left Woodford?"

"Fumigated? Goodness no! They fumigate houses, not people."

"Well, disinfected is what I mean, I reckon. Kitty's got a rash—and it's scarlet!"

They gazed at each other in dismay. Kitty stirred, moaned, and sat up.

"What are you all talking about?—oh, girls,—I can't open my eyes!"

At her cry all the other occupants of the nursery woke up, and crowded about the anguished Kitty.

"Oh, Susy, look at her," cried Blue Bonnet. "Did Ruth look like that? Do you think it's scarlet fever?"

"Scarlet fever nothing!" wailed Kitty. "It's poison ivy, that's what it is!"

"How can it be? What makes you think so?" Blue Bonnet demanded.

Kitty's tale was soon told, and to her indignation it provoked a laugh.

"It's no laughing matter, I tell you," she exclaimed miserably.

"You wouldn't say that if you could see yourself!" Blue Bonnet returned.

"You wouldn't think it so funny if both your eyes were swollen shut and your face burned like fire." Kitty tried to look pathetic, but only succeeded in looking funnier than ever.

Stifling their laughter, but exchanging glances of amusement every time they caught sight of Kitty's blotched and swollen countenance, the girls dressed and went to seek advice for the sufferer. Everything in the shape of a remedy from soap-suds to raw beefsteak was proposed by somebody or other, and nearly every one of them tried before the day was over. Kitty kept her bed and Sarah constituting herself nurse, ministered unto the afflicted one.

It was hard for fun-loving Kitty to be shut up in a darkened room with her eyes and face bandaged, while the sounds of merriment and laughter floated tantalizingly in. Sarah was kept busy bearing the numerous messages of sympathy, ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous, that Sandy and some of the other boys spent their time in composing.

It was decided that the party from Camp Judson should remain over until the next day, since all had risen too late for the desired early start. Carita looked supremely happy when Knight yielded to Blue Bonnet's arguments and reached this decision. She had so wanted to stay, and yet—there were so many reasons why she should go; and it was a great relief to her conscience to have Knight assume all responsibility for their prolonged visit.

"Now maybe we can have another nice talk," she said, sinking down beside Blue Bonnet in the hammock on the side veranda. "We've had only snatches, so far. And it will be so long before I see you again."

"What makes you think so?" Blue Bonnet asked rather abruptly.

"Why,—you will be leaving in two weeks, the girls said."

"Oh, they did." Blue Bonnet was thoughtful for a moment, then burst out—"Carita, what would you do, if you were in my place,—about going back East again?"

"What would I do?" Carita repeated wonderingly. "Why, Blue Bonnet, do you mean that you're not sure about going?"

"I do mean—just that. The girls have taken it for granted all along that I was going back with them, but somehow I can't make up my mind. Every day the ranch grows dearer. And being shut up in a stuffy schoolroom, and having to get up and go to bed by the clock, and having a place for everything and everything in its place—Carita, it goes against the grain!"

Carita gave a comical little sigh. "It's queer how things seem to be—cut on the bias, isn't it? Now to go to school, and see and know lots of people, and have libraries and hear music—why, I seem sometimes to ache for it all."

"It's a pity you're not Aunt Lucinda's niece. You'd do her credit. Now the only person I seem to suit through and through, is Uncle Cliff. He's been father and mother both to me, and I think that I owe him something in return. I can't bear to leave him all alone again."

"I know. I should feel just that way about Mother. She needs me, but, if we could afford it, she'd be the first to send me away to school. If I could get enough education to teach, I could help her more in the end."

"I reckon it's the end that makes everything endurable. It was the thought of getting back to the ranch that got me through last year. But I haven't let myself think what the end of this summer would bring. Every day on the ranch is complete in itself."

"But think how it will seem after this—when the girls are all gone, and your grandmother—"

"It's Grandmother who counts more than any one, except Uncle Cliff. I reckon I'll just have to be blindfolded and then choose!"

"There come Knight and Alec," said Carita. "I shouldn't wonder if they'd been having the same sort of a conversation. They'd like to change places with each other. Knight is wild to go East to college, and Alec would give anything for—"

"Knight's health and strength,—I know," Blue Bonnet interrupted. "It's another case of the mixed-upness of things. I'm disappointed in Alec."

Carita opened her eyes wide. "Disappointed? Why, I should think you, of all people, feeling as you do, would sympathize with him."

"I do sympathize with him, and always have. That's why I was so glad Uncle Cliff asked him out here. I was sure it would do him the world of good—"

"And so it has," said Carita. "It has done wonders for him, Knight says, and that's why—"

"And that's why I don't understand how he could possibly—" Blue Bonnet broke off as the subject of their conversation took the three veranda steps in one leap and settled himself comfortably on the railing for a chat. Knight threw himself into a chair near the hammock.

"What are you two plotting?" asked Alec. "You've had your heads together like a pair of Russian conspirators."

"We're only trying to make the most of every minute we're together. At least that's what I'm doing," said Carita. "I believe you two are doing very much the same thing."

The boys smiled at each other: that was a girl's way of putting it, but it came very near the truth.

"I reckon you two girls will have lots to write about this winter," said Knight. "Carita used to wonder, all last year, how you looked, and what the We are Sevens were like, and what you all wore and did and ate and—" He broke off with a laugh at Carita's indignant denial. "I expect her mind will be in Woodford more than ever, after this."

"But Blue Bonnet may not go back," Carita began, when a look from Blue Bonnet checked her.

"Not go back?" In his surprise Alec nearly fell off the railing. "Here's news for the We are Sevens! Well, Blue Bonnet, I can't say I'm sorry." So far from being depressed at the prospect, Alec looked highly elated.

Blue Bonnet was strangely still. Alec had said that very much as if he meant it. And it hurt. After almost a year of close friendship it was, to say the least, hardly good taste to pretend he was glad she was no longer going to live next door to him. She did not intend, however, to let him see how she felt, and rose without glancing in his direction.

"I must go see Kitty," she said briefly.

Alec looked after her with a perplexed expression in his eyes. "Isn't Blue Bonnet a bit offish lately, Carita? She doesn't seem at all like herself."

"I think she's worried," said Carita. "It is hard trying to please both her uncle and her grandmother, when one wants her in Massachusetts, and the other urges her to stay on the ranch."

"So that's the trouble?" Alec looked somewhat relieved.

"Poor Blue Bonnet must feel rather like the rag we saw Texas and Massachusetts worrying this morning," laughed Knight, "each took a corner and pulled!"

"She ought to appreciate one fact," added Alec, "and that is, she at least can decide for herself. She isn't compelled to do what somebody else decides for her."

"Just the same, I believe she would prefer having some one else do it," said Carita.

In spite of Carita's explanation, Alec was not wholly at ease in his mind about Blue Bonnet. He imagined that her manner to him for the last few days had conveyed a vague reproach. But he had no chance that day to talk with her alone.

Early the next morning Carita and Knight and the other boys prepared for the long ride back to Camp Judson.

"You'll write me soon, Blue Bonnet, won't you, and tell me what you decide to do?" Carita asked as she leaned down from her pinto for a last word with Blue Bonnet.

"Indeed I will," Blue Bonnet assured her. "I wish I knew now."

"And you'll write often if you go back—all about school and the girls and—"

"I'll write about everything, if—!"

And this was the word on which they parted.

Sandy lingered behind the others long enough to slip an envelope into Blue Bonnet's hand. "For Kitty," he explained. "Tell her I'm mighty sorry I couldn't see her to say good-bye."

"Maybe it is only 'hasta la vista,' as the Spanish say,—'good-bye till we meet again,'" said Blue Bonnet. "You must surely come to Woodford and see us if you go to Harvard."

"'Neither foes nor loving friends'—shall hinder me from doing that same, if—!"

And with this word, Sandy, too, galloped after the others.

Alec was to accompany the boys as far as the ford. As he rode away on Strawberry, looking very straight and manly in the saddle, General Trent gazed after him with an expression of pride in his eyes.

"The change in the boy is hardly short of marvellous, Miss Blue Bonnet," he said at last, turning to her. "I should never have believed it if I had not seen him. I'm very grateful to you for writing me that letter, though I confess you had me badly puzzled."

Blue Bonnet had stood looking regretfully after Carita, but at the General's words she turned with a brightened face. If he was grateful, then he must have forgiven her for bringing him to Texas on what was evidently an unnecessary errand.

"I was afraid you might think I had—rushed in," she said.

"Not at all!" he replied. "Though I did not quite understand—you weren't entirely clear, you know."

Indeed she did know!

"But Alec has explained the situation," the General continued, "and I understand everything now."

Blue Bonnet drew a quick breath of relief. "Then it's all right?"

"Yes,—and he need not have hesitated. I sympathize with him wholly."

Sympathize? How queerly he said it. Again Blue Bonnet was swept out to sea.

"I am going to talk with Mr. Ashe about the matter now. We must do what is best for the boy." As General Trent walked to meet Uncle Cliff, Blue Bonnet stood staring after him, her thoughts in a whirl.

"What's the matter? You look as if you had just been through an earthquake," laughed Ruth, coming up and slipping her thin hand into Blue Bonnet's.

"I think I have,—and everything is upside down." Blue Bonnet still looked dazed as she turned to go into the house.

"Come in and see Kitty. The poor child is pretty blue."

"She was pretty red when I last saw her!" laughed Blue Bonnet. "I've something here to cheer her—a message from Sandy. She snubs him dreadfully, but he seems to enjoy it."

They found all the girls gathered about Kitty's bed, evidently in the midst of a serious discussion. Silence fell as Blue Bonnet entered.

"I can see out of one eye!" Kitty announced with forced gaiety.

"Praise be!" said Blue Bonnet. "Now you can see what Sandy sent for a farewell message." She held out the envelope.

"Open it please," said Kitty. "That boy is always up to mischief and I can't take any more risks. I cut one of his dances the other evening and he vowed vengeance."

Blue Bonnet obeyed while the other girls looked on with unconcealed interest. The envelope appeared to be empty, but when it was vigorously shaken upside down, something fell on to the counterpane. They all dove for it, but it was Debby who finally caught and held it up. It was a tiny square of note-paper, in the centre of which a knot of ribbon secured something bright and shining. It was a lock of Sandy's silky red hair. Under it was written: "A coal of fire. I forgive you."

Kitty laughed for the first time since her affliction had come upon her; and the girls blessed Sandy for his nonsense.

"May I borrow my granddaughter for a few minutes?" asked the Senora, looking in at the door. "Blue Bonnet, I've a letter here from your Aunt Lucinda."

An odd look came into Blue Bonnet's face,—Grandmother's voice held a hint of something important. She handed Sandy's memento to Kitty and forced a smile. "Put this in your memory-book, Kitty. When Sandy is president, you can point with pride to that coal of fire—they're likely, by then, to call it 'the fire of genius!'"

When she had left the room, Kitty looked out of her one good eye with a glance intended to be solemn. "Girls, I've a presentiment."

"What about,—Sandy?" asked Sarah.

"No, you silly,—except that he'll never be president! I'm thinking about Blue Bonnet,—I was just going to tell you when she came in. I don't believe she intends to go back with us."

Kitty's words produced even more of an effect than she had expected. For several minutes no one spoke, then Ruth said half irritably:

"If you can't have pleasanter presentiments than that, Kitty, I wish you wouldn't have them."

"I can't help it," Kitty declared. "She won't say a word about it. And every time we get on to the subject, she either begins to talk about something else, or leaves the room."

"I've noticed it, too," said Sarah, quietly.

The gloom on every countenance bore silent witness to the hold Blue Bonnet had on the affections of the We are Sevens.

"Woodford will be a stupid old hole without her," Kitty declared.

"Passing over your implied compliment to us," said Debby, "I agree with you."

Grandmother handed Blue Bonnet Aunt Lucinda's letter without comment; but watched the girl's face closely as she read. A characteristic letter it was, showing the fine mind and cultivation of the writer, yet like her, too, precise and rather formal in its wording. She was in Munich, enjoying the summer music festival. Nothing very important so far, Blue Bonnet concluded, and began to breathe more easily. But over the closing pages she sobered again.

"There is a rather remarkable pianist staying at this same pension," she wrote; "and she plays for us very often. Something in the charm and delicacy of her touch makes me think of Blue Bonnet's, when she plays her little 'Ave Maria.' I have talked with her about Blue Bonnet and she thinks with me that the child must have real talent for the piano. Fraeulein Schirmer is to teach music in a school for girls in Boston, this coming winter, and I think it would be an excellent plan to place Blue Bonnet right in the school. She is old enough now to appreciate the atmosphere of culture and refinement in such a place,—I am told that the first families of Boston send their daughters there—and she could have the advantage of attending the Symphony concerts.

"Woodford has nothing much to offer in the way of musical advantages, and I think Blue Bonnet should develop her talent in this line. She could come to us for the week-end always, and in that way we should not have to part with her altogether. But we can settle the matter when we are all in Woodford once more."

Blue Bonnet sighed as she finished and let the letter drop into her lap. "When they were all in Woodford once more." So Aunt Lucinda, too, took it for granted! She stirred a trifle resentfully.

"One would think I had signed a life-contract!" she thought.

Mrs. Clyde sought her granddaughter's eye anxiously. "Well, Blue Bonnet, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking—not for the first time either,—of something I once said to Alec. I wished, and keep on wishing—that there were two of me,—so that one might stay here on the ranch with Uncle Cliff, while the other was with you and Aunt Lucinda in Woodford, being educated."

Grandmother smiled and sighed in the same breath. "Suppose you leave me and Uncle Clifford and Aunt Lucinda out of the matter entirely. Just think how it would have appealed to—your mother."

The blue eyes turned swiftly from her grandmother's face to gaze out across the wide sweep of prairie. There was a long silence. When Blue Bonnet faced her grandmother again, her eyes were misty.

"I wish she were here to tell me. Somehow I can't make it seem right, either way. Will you wait and let me sleep on it, Grandmother? I'll tell you, as the Mexicans say—manana."

"To-morrow?"

"Well, manana with the Mexicans means almost any time in the future, but I'll make it—to-morrow."

Mrs. Clyde was silent, but the glance that followed Blue Bonnet as she left the room, was very wistful.



CHAPTER XXI

BLUE BONNET DECIDES



"I SAY, Blue Bonnet, wait for a fellow, won't you?"

Blue Bonnet waited, none too eagerly, while Alec caught up with her, and then, whistling to Don and Solomon, turned to resume her walk along the grassy bank of San Franciscito.

Alec surveyed her proud little profile for a few minutes in a sort of puzzled wonder, and finally as she kept on in the same unsociable manner, he began with determined friendliness:

"We've never yet taken the walk we planned, along the rio. Feel equal to it this morning?"

"There isn't time to go far. I told Grandmother I'd not be gone long," she returned carelessly.

"Another tea-party on?" This time he succeeded in bringing the old sparkle of laughter to her eyes.

"Not this time," she answered.

"Your parties have been a sort of continuous performance this summer, haven't they?" he persisted, hoping to win her to a more conversational mood.

"And the summer is almost over,—did you ever know such a short vacation?"

"It's been the jolliest one I've ever had. And it is going to mean a lot to me all my life, Blue Bonnet."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Then Alec asked—"Do you remember the morning we first spoke of following this stream?"

"Yes,—and do you remember how we wondered what we would talk about on our next jaunt by the Woodford brook?"

He nodded. "I remember everything; that was the first day I told you I wasn't likely to be in Woodford next spring. It was only a day-dream then,—isn't it funny how things have come out?"

"Funny? Alec, you are the queerest boy. You've taken to talking in riddles lately, and I—I reckon I'm pretty slow at guessing riddles. We may as well have it out right now. I've been wanting to have a talk with you."

"Same here," returned Alec. "What's the matter, anyway? You've not been a bit like yourself the last few days."

"Don't you really know, Alec?" Blue Bonnet met his puzzled eyes very soberly.

"I honestly don't, Blue Bonnet."

"And haven't you felt the least little bit guilty about letting me write that letter to your grandfather?"

"Guilty?" Alec's tone expressed unaffected amazement. "Do you mean I ought to have written it myself? I'd have done it if you had hinted that you'd rather have me. Why didn't you say so?"

"You seemed so anxious to have me do it."

"And so I was. It seemed only right and proper that you should be the first to suggest the proposition. You're the owner of the Blue Bonnet ranch."

"What has that to do with it?"

"Well, I should think it had everything to do with it. I couldn't very well invite myself, could I?"

"Invite yourself? Oh, dear, now you're talking in riddles again."

"Well, Blue Bonnet, after you had invited me to spend two months on the ranch, it certainly took more courage than I possessed to suggest extending my visit for a year or two. You can see how much better it was for the suggestion to come from you. Grandfather has fallen right in with it and is making all arrangements with Mr. Ashe right now."

Blue Bonnet's eyes grew round with astonishment. "Do you mean to tell me that you are going to stay on the ranch a year or two?"

"If you and Mr. Ashe will stand for it. I want to stay till I outgrow being a weakling and grow into a real man. Till I'm as broad as a fellow my age should be and have a muscle bigger than a girl's. The two months here have already shown what two years is likely to do for me." Alec squared his shoulders and drew himself up as if already the example of brawn he longed to be.

"And do you mean to tell me that when you said you might not go back to Woodford, and that there was no college in store for Alec Trent you only meant—"

"Till I had the strength to go through with it, yes. I've had enough breakdowns. Why, what—"

"I wish you were a girl so that I could shake you!" Blue Bonnet's look was a queer mixture of relief and indignation. "Why couldn't you say so in the first place? When you kept making all those mysterious hints, I was wasting good, honest pity on you because I thought you were preparing for an early grave!"

Alec's peal of laughter showed how far from pitiable his state was. "Oh, Blue Bonnet, I wish I could tell that to Knight!"

"But didn't you hint?" she demanded.

"Of course I did. I was fishing for an invitation to make a good long visit to the Blue Bonnet ranch. Hardly likely, was it, that I was going to demand it boldly as a right?"

"Well, it would have saved me a heap of worry if you had. Why, Alec!" Blue Bonnet sank down on the bank to think it over. "What are you going to do on the ranch all winter?"

He threw himself on the grass beside her.

"I'm going to live, as far as possible, like Pinto Pete and Shady. I'm going to ride the range, go on the round-up this fall and next spring,—spend about fifteen hours a day in the open. And if I'm not as husky as a Texas cowboy by next summer, it won't be my fault. You know it's been my one wish, Blue Bonnet, and this, I'm convinced is the way to get it."

"And college?"

"College can wait. I'd rather have biceps like Knight's than be a walking encyclopaedia!"

"Think of all the sympathy I've wasted!" Blue Bonnet laughed at herself.

"Oh, I don't know that it's all been wasted. I've deserved a good deal. I've been afraid Grandfather would be against the scheme—he's never been willing to admit that I wasn't as strong as I ought to be. I've only just begun myself to realize how good-for-nothing I used to feel most of the time. There's nothing like feeling able to shake your fist at all out-doors!"

Blue Bonnet smiled. "Then I needn't regret my letter?"

"Regret?—well, I should say not! You builded better than you knew. Getting Grandfather worried was just the right thing, though it sounds rather heartless to say it. Being worried, he came and saw and—I conquered!"

"Now I won't have to ask for an explanation of a very rude speech of yours."

"Was I rude—to you?" Alec looked up hastily.

"It sounded—rather queer, for you to rejoice over my not going back to Woodford," she answered.

"Meant purely as a compliment," he assured her. "It would be mighty jolly to have you here, Blue Bonnet."

She rose hurriedly. "Let's not go into that, please. Every time I get pretty near a decision, some new argument bobs up on the other side. I'm dreadfully worried, Alec. But, thank goodness, you're off my mind!"

"I'll try to stay off, Blue Bonnet," he laughed as he followed her along the narrow path. "If you go back you'll write often, won't you? I shall depend on you—"

She made a movement of impatience. "I'm not going to cross bridges, Alec, till I come to them."

"I beg your pardon. I forgot that bridges are a touchy subject with you!"

They found Uncle Cliff and the General still absorbed in what appeared to be an interminable conversation. The General rose with old-fashioned courtesy as Blue Bonnet came up the veranda steps.

"What do you think of your new cowboy?" he asked, laying his hand affectionately on Alec's shoulder.

"We've just been exchanging opinions with each other," she said, with a sidelong glance at Alec.

"I'm going to miss the boy," General Trent continued. "The old house will be very dull and empty,—unless you make up your mind to be particularly neighborly, Miss Blue Bonnet."