diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:17:54 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:17:54 -0700 |
| commit | 7fee3e1c489d39ab4754bd6b148d4030e0848e07 (patch) | |
| tree | f5ba62b4e9953d9f602f4f497e783c22f7f8e9c5 /25578-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '25578-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/25578-h.htm | 13507 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/cover01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 52719 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/emblem.png | bin | 0 -> 3799 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 24356 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs02.jpg | bin | 0 -> 33077 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs03.jpg | bin | 0 -> 33163 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs04.jpg | bin | 0 -> 25453 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs05.jpg | bin | 0 -> 29017 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/gs06.jpg | bin | 0 -> 23760 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/spine01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 13770 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25578-h/images/tp01.png | bin | 0 -> 342 bytes |
11 files changed, 13507 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/25578-h/25578-h.htm b/25578-h/25578-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd8dd8c --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/25578-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13507 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sunbridge Girls at Six Star Ranch, by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: double 3px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .bbox2 {border: solid 2px; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .books {margin-top: 2em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + margin-left: 4em; } + + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Sunbridge Girls at Six Star Ranch, by +Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter, Illustrated by Frank J. Murch</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Sunbridge Girls at Six Star Ranch</p> +<p>Author: Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter</p> +<p>Release Date: May 23, 2008 [eBook #25578]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUNBRIDGE GIRLS AT SIX STAR RANCH***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Emmy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>The Sunbridge Girls at Six Star Ranch</h1> + + +<div class='center'><a name="front" id="front"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Cover and frontispiece"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="300" height="452" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div></td><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/gs01.jpg" width="300" height="394" alt=""REDDY WAS RIGHT THERE EVERY TIME"" title=""REDDY WAS RIGHT THERE EVERY TIME"" /> +<span class="caption">"REDDY WAS RIGHT THERE EVERY TIME"</span><br /><div class='right'>(<a href="#Page_113"><i>See page 113</i></a>)</div> +</div></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='bbox'><div class='bbox2'> +<h1> +The Sunbridge Girls<br /> +at Six Star Ranch</h1> +</div><div class='bbox2'> +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ELEANOR STUART</h2> +</div><div class='bbox2'> +<div class='center'>ILLUSTRATED BY<br /></div> +<h3>FRANK J. MURCH<br /><br /><br /></h3> +</div><div class='bbox2'><br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 145px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="145" height="150" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div><br /><br /><br /> + +</div><div class='bbox2'> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Publishing Information"> +<tr><td align='left'>BOSTON</td><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 60px;"> +<img src="images/tp01.png" width="30" height="22" alt="decoration" title="decoration" /> +</div></td><td align='left'>L. C. PAGE &</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>COMPANY</td><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 60px;"> +<img src="images/tp01.png" width="30" height="22" alt="decoration" title="decoration" /> +</div></td><td align='left'>PUBLISHERS</td></tr> +</table></div></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='center'> +<small><i>Copyright, 1913</i></small><br /> +<small><span class="smcap">By L. C. Page & Company</span></small><br /> +<small>(INCORPORATED)</small><br /> +—————<br /> +<i><small>All rights reserved</small></i><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>First Impression, April, 1913</small><br /> +<small>Second Impression, January, 1914</small><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>THE COLONIAL PRESS</small><br /> +<small>C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.</small><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Spine of book and contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 115px;"> +<img src="images/spine01.jpg" width="115" height="600" alt="Spine" title="Spine" /> +</div></td><td align='left'><div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='center'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Aunt Sophronia</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Plans for Texas</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Coming of Genevieve</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the Way</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Boys Prepare a Welcome</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cordelia Sees a Cowboy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Ranch House</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Mistress of the Six Star Ranch</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Reddy and the Broncho</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Cordelia Goes To Church</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Quentina</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Opening of a Barrel</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Prairie—and Moonlight</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Man and a Mystery</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Alamo</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Tilly Crosses Bridges</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Bertha's Accident</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Golden Hours</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Hermit Joe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The New Boy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Genevieve Learns Something Not In Books</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Texas "Missionary"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Genevieve Goes to Boston</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Brown Dress for Elsie</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_324">324</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXV.</td><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">When Sunbridge Went to Texas</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Good-by Party</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Reddy was right there every time</span>" (<a href="#Page_113"><i>See page 113</i></a>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">A tall, slender girl . . . appeared at a car door</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Follow me—quick!' he ordered</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">There, now—look!' she added</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">How do you do, Mr. Oliver Holmes,' she began</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class="hang1">"<span class="smcap">It would be something of a walk, the woman said, as she gave directions</span>"</div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>The Sunbridge Girls<br /> +at Six Star Ranch</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>AUNT SOPHRONIA</h3> + + +<p><span class='smcap'>The</span> Reverend Thomas Wilson's sister, Miss +Sophronia, had come to Sunbridge on a Tuesday +evening late in June to make her brother's family +a long-promised visit. But it was not until the next +morning that she heard something that sent her to +her sister-in-law in a burst of astonishment almost +too great for words.</p> + +<p>"For pity's sake, Mary, what is this I hear?" +she demanded. "Edith insists that her cousin, +Cordelia, is going to Texas next week—to Texas!—<i>Cordelia!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is, Sophronia," replied the minister's +wife, trying to make her answer sound as cheerful +and commonplace as she could, and as if Texas were +in the next room. (It was something of a trial to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +Mrs. Thomas Wilson that her husband's sister +could not seem to understand that she, a minister's +wife for eighteen years and the mother of five children, +ought to know what was proper and right for +her orphaned niece to do—at least fully as much +as should a spinster, who had never brought up +anything but four cats and a parrot!) "Edith is +quite right. Cordelia is going to Texas next week."</p> + +<p>"But, Mary, are you crazy? To let a child like +that go all the way from here to Texas—one +would think New Hampshire and Texas were +twenty miles apart!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson sighed a little wearily.</p> + +<p>"Cordelia isn't exactly a child, Sophronia, you +must remember that. She was sixteen last November; +and she's very self-reliant and capable for her +age, too. Besides, she isn't going alone, you know."</p> + +<p>"Alone!" exclaimed Miss Sophronia. "Mary, +surely, the rest that Edith said isn't true! Those +other girls aren't going, too, are they?—Elsie +Martin, and that flyaway Tilly Mack, and all?"</p> + +<p>"I think they are, Sophronia."</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the crazy things anybody ever +heard of!" almost groaned the lady. "Mary, what +<i>are</i> you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of Cordelia," returned the minister's +wife, with a spirit that was as sudden as it was +unusual. "Sophronia, for twelve years, ever since +she came to me, Cordelia has been just a Big Sister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +in the family; and she's had to fetch and carry and +trot and run her little legs off for one after another +of the children, as well as for her uncle and me. +You <i>know</i> how good she is, and how conscientious. +You know how anxious she always is to do exactly +right. She's never had a playday, and I'm sure she +deserves one if ever a girl did! Vacations to her +have never meant anything but more care and more +time for housework."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson paused for breath, then went on +with renewed vigor.</p> + +<p>"When this chance came up, Tom and I thought +at first, of course, just as you did, that it was quite +out of the question; but—well, we decided to let +her go. And I haven't been sorry a minute since. +She's Tom's only brother's child, but we've never +been able to do much for her, as you know. We +can let her have this chance, though. And she's so +happy—dear child!"</p> + +<p>"But what is it? How did it happen? Who's +going? Edith's story sounded so absurd to me I +could make precious little out of it. She insisted +that the 'Happy X's' were going."</p> + +<p>The minister's wife smiled.</p> + +<p>"It's the girls' 'Hexagon Club,' Sophronia. +They call themselves the 'Happy Hexagons.' There +are six of them."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" commented Miss Sophronia. "Who +are they—besides Cordelia?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bertha Brown, Tilly Mack, Alma Lane, Elsie +Martin, and Genevieve Hartley."</p> + +<p>"And <i>who?</i>" frowned Miss Sophronia at the +last name.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve Hartley. She is the little Texas girl. +It is to her ranch they are going."</p> + +<p>"<i>Her</i> ranch!"</p> + +<p>"Well—her father's."</p> + +<p>"But who is she? What's she doing here?"</p> + +<p>"She's been going to school this winter. She's +at the Kennedys'."</p> + +<p>"A Texas ranch-girl at the Kennedys'! Why, +they're <i>nice</i> people!" exclaimed Miss Sophronia, +opening wide her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson laughed now outright.</p> + +<p>"You'd better not let Miss Genevieve hear you +say 'nice' in that tone of voice—and in just that +connection, Sophronia," she warned her. "Genevieve +might think you meant to insinuate that there +weren't any <i>nice</i> people in Texas—and she's very +fond of Texas!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't mean that, of course. Still, a +ranch must be sort of wild and—and mustangy, +seems to me; and I was thinking of the +Kennedys, especially Miss Jane Chick. Imagine +saying 'wild' and 'Miss Jane' in the same +breath!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," smiled Mrs. Wilson; "and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +guess Genevieve has been something of a trial—in +a way; though they love her dearly—both of them. +She's a very lovable girl. But she <i>is</i> heedless and +thoughtless; and, of course, she wasn't at all used +to our ways here in the East. Her mother died +when she was eight years old; since then she has +been brought up by her father on the ranch. She +blew into Sunbridge last August like a veritable +breeze from her own prairies—and the Kennedy +home isn't used to breezes—especially Miss Jane. +I imagine Genevieve did stir things up a little there +all winter—though she has improved a great deal +since she came."</p> + +<p>"But why did she come in the first place?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson smiled oddly.</p> + +<p>"That's the best part of it," she said. "It seems +that last April, when Mrs. Kennedy and Miss Chick +were on their way home from California, they +stopped in Houston, Texas, a few days, and there +they met John Hartley and his daughter, Genevieve. +It appears they had known him years ago when they +were 'the Chick girls,' and he came to Sunbridge +to visit relatives. I've heard it whispered that he +was actually a bit in love with one of them, though +I never heard whether it was Miss Jane, or the one +who is now the Widow Kennedy. However that +may be, he was delighted to see them in Texas, +report says, and to introduce to them his daughter, +Genevieve."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But that doesn't explain how the girl came +here," frowned Miss Sophronia.</p> + +<p>"No, but I will," smiled her sister-in-law. +"Fond and proud as Mr. Hartley very plainly was +of his daughter, it did not take Mrs. Kennedy long +to see that he was very much disturbed at the sort +of life she was living at the ranch. That is, he felt +that the time had come now when she needed something +that only school, young girl friends, and +gently-bred women could give her; yet he could +not bear the thought of sending her off alone to an +ordinary boarding school. Then is when Mrs. +Kennedy arose to the occasion; and very quickly +it was settled that Genevieve should come here to +her in Sunbridge for school this last winter—which +she did, and Mrs. Kennedy has been a veritable +mother to her ever since. She calls her 'Aunt +Julia.'"</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; very fine, I'm sure," murmured Miss +Sophronia, a little shortly. "And now she's asked +these girls home with her—the whole lot of them!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and they're crazy over it—as you'd +know they would be."</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia sniffed audibly.</p> + +<p>"Humph! It's the parents that are crazy, I'm +thinking," she corrected. "Imagine it—six scatter-brained +children, and all the way to Texas! +Mary!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but the father is in the East here, on business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +and he goes back with them," conciliated Mrs. +Wilson, hastily. "Besides, Mrs. Kennedy is going, +too."</p> + +<p>Miss Sophronia raised her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't say I envy her the thing she's +undertaken. Imagine <i>my</i> attempting to chaperon +six crazy girls all the way from New Hampshire to +Texas—and then on a ranch for nobody knows +how long after that!"</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine—<i>your</i> doing it, Sophronia," +rejoined the minister's wife, demurely. And at the +meaning emphasis and the twinkle in her eye, Miss +Sophronia sniffed again audibly.</p> + +<p>"When do they go?" she asked in her stiffest +manner.</p> + +<p>"The first day of July."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Very fine, I'm sure. Still—I've been +thinking of the expense. Of course, for a minister—"</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Wilson bit her lip. After a moment she +filled the pause that her sister-in-law had left.</p> + +<p>"I understand, of course, what you mean, Sophronia," +she acknowledged. "And ministers' +families don't have much money for Texas trips, +I'll own. As it happens, however, the trip will cost +the young people nothing. Mr. Hartley very kindly +bears all the expenses."</p> + +<p>"He does?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He declares he shall be in the girls' debt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +even then. You see, last winter Genevieve sprained +her ankle, and was shut up for weeks in the house. +It was a very bad sprain, and naturally it came +pretty hard on such an active, outdoor girl as she +is. Mrs. Kennedy says she thinks Genevieve and +all the rest of them would have gone wild if it +hadn't been for the girls. One or more of them +was there every day. Then is when they formed +their Hexagon Club. It was worth everything to +Genevieve, as you can imagine; and Mr. Hartley +declares that nothing he can ever do will half repay +them. Besides, he wants Genevieve to be with nice +girls all she can—she's had so little of girls' society. +So he's asked them to go as his guests."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! Well, he must have some money!"</p> + +<p>"He has. Mrs. Kennedy says he is a man of independent +means, and he has no one but Genevieve +to spend his money on. So, as for this trip—in his +whole-hearted, generous Western fashion, he pays +all the bills himself."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; very kind, I'm sure," admitted Miss +Sophronia, grudgingly. "Well, I'm glad, at least, +that it doesn't cost you anything."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, then Mrs. Wilson +said, apologetically:</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Sophronia, but I'm afraid you'll have +to stand it till the children go—and there'll be +something to stand, too; for it's 'Texas, Texas, +Texas,' from morning till night, everywhere. Genevieve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +herself is in New Jersey visiting friends, but +that doesn't seem to make any difference. The +whole town is wildly excited over the trip. I found +even little Mrs. Miller, the dressmaker, yesterday +poring over an old atlas spread out on her cutting-table.</p> + +<p>"'I was just a-lookin' up where Texas was,' she +explained when she saw me. 'My! only think of +havin' folks go all that distance—folks I know, I +mean. I'm sure I'd never dare to go—or let my +girl.'"</p> + +<p>"Very sensible woman, I'm sure," remarked Miss +Sophronia.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson smiled; but she went on imperturbably.</p> + +<p>"Even the little tots haven't escaped infection. +Imagine my sensations Sunday when Bettie Barker, +the primmest Miss Propriety in my infant class, +asked: 'Please, Mis' Wilson, what is a broncho, and +how do you bust 'em?'"</p> + +<p>This, indeed, was too much for even Miss Sophronia's +gravity. Her lips twitched and relaxed +in a broad smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, upon my word!" she ejaculated, as she +rose to her feet to go up-stairs to her room. "Upon +my word!"</p> + +<p>An hour later, in that same room, Mrs. Wilson, +going in to place some fresh towels upon the rack, +found a huge book spread open on Miss Sophronia's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +bed. The book was number seven in the Reverend +Thomas Wilson's most comprehensive encyclopedia; +and it was open at the word "Texas."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilson smiled and went out, closing the +door softly behind her.</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, as Mrs. Wilson had said, "Texas, +Texas, Texas," everywhere throughout the town. +Old atlases were brought down from attics, and old +geographies were dug out of trunks. Even the dictionaries +showed smudges in the T's where not over-clean +fingers had turned hurried pages for possible +information. The library was besieged at all hours, +particularly by the Happy Hexagons, for they, of +course, were the storm-center of the whole thing.</p> + +<p>Ordinarily the club met but once a week; now +they met daily—even in the absence of their beloved +president, Genevieve. Heretofore they had +met usually in the parsonage; now they met in the +grove back of the schoolhouse.</p> + +<p>"It seems more appropriate, somehow," Elsie +had declared; "more sort of airy and—Texasy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and we want to get used to space—wide, +wide space! Genevieve says it's all space," Bertha +Brown had answered, with a far-reaching fling of +her arms.</p> + +<p>"Ouch! Bertha! Just be sure you've got the +space, then, before you get used to it," retorted Tilly, +aggrievedly, straightening her hat which had been +knocked awry by one of the wide-flung arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Happy Hexagons met, of course, to study +Texas, and to talk Texas; though, as Bertha +Brown's brother, Charlie, somewhat impertinently +declared, they did not need to meet to <i>talk</i> Texas—they +did that without any meeting! All of which +merely meant, of course, retaliated the girls, that +Charlie was jealous because he also could not go to +Texas.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>PLANS FOR TEXAS</h3> + + +<p>It was a pretty little grove in which the Happy +Hexagons met to study and to talk Texas. Nor +were they the only ones that met there. Though +Harold Day, Alma Lane's cousin, was not to be of +the Texas party, the girls invited him to meet with +them, as he was Texas-born, and was one of Genevieve's +first friends in Sunbridge. On the outskirts +of the magic circle, sundry smaller brothers and +sisters and cousins of the members hung adoringly. +Even grown men and women came sometimes, and +stood apart, looking on with what the Happy Hexagons +chose to think were admiring, awestruck eyes—which +was not a little flattering, though quite +natural and proper, decided the club. For, of course, +not every one could go to Texas, to be sure!</p> + +<p>At the beginning, at least, of each meeting, affairs +were conducted with the seriousness due to so important +a subject. In impressive silence the club +seated itself in a circle; and solemnly Cordelia Wilson, +the treasurer, opened the meeting, being (according +to Tilly) a "perfect image of her uncle in +the pulpit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fellow members, once more we find ourselves +gathered together for the purpose of the study of +Texas," she would begin invariably. And then perhaps: +"We will listen to Miss Bertha Brown, please. +Miss Brown, what new thing—I mean, what new +features have you discovered about Texas?"</p> + +<p>If Miss Brown had something to say—and of +course she did have something (she would have been +disgraced, otherwise)—she said it. Then each in +turn was asked, after which the discussion was open +to all.</p> + +<p>They were lively meetings. No wonder small +brothers and sisters and cousins hung entranced on +every word. No wonder, too, that at last, one day, +quite carried away with the enthusiasm of the moment, +they made so bold as to have something to say +on their own account. It happened like this:</p> + +<p>"Texas is the largest state in the Union," announced +Bertha Brown, who had been called on first. +"It has an area about one twelfth as large as that +of the whole United States. If all the population of +the country were placed there, the state would not be +as thickly settled as the eastern shore of Massachusetts +is. Six different flags have waved over it since +its discovery two hundred years ago: France, Spain, +Mexico, Republic of Texas, Confederate States of +America, and the Star Spangled Banner."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! I said most of that two days ago," muttered +Tilly, not under breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help it," pouted Bertha; "there +isn't very much new left to say, Tilly Mack, and you +know it. Besides, I didn't have a minute's time this +morning to look up a single thing."</p> + +<p>"Order—order in the court," rapped Cordelia, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it doesn't matter a bit if we do say the +same things," protested Alma Lane, quickly. (Alma +was always trying to make peace between combatants.) +"I'm sure we shall remember it all the +better if we do repeat it."</p> + +<p>"Of course we shall," agreed Cordelia, promptly. +"Now, Alma—I mean Miss Lane—" (this +title-giving was brand-new, having been introduced +as a special mark of dignity fitting to the occasion; +and it was not easy to remember!)—"perhaps you +will tell us what you have found out."</p> + +<p>"Well, the climate is healthful," began Alma, +hopefully. "Texas is less subject to malarial diseases +than any of the other states on the Gulf of +Mexico. September is the most rainy month; December +the least. The mean annual temperature +near the mouth of the Rio Grande is 72°; while +along the Red River the mean annual temperature +is only 80°. In the northwestern part of the state +the mean annual—"</p> + +<p>"Alma, please," begged Tilly, in mock horror, +raising both her hands, "<i>please</i> don't give us any +more of those mean annual temperatures. I'm sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +if they can be any <i>meaner</i> than the temperature right +here to-day is," she sighed, as she fell to fanning +herself vigorously, "I don't want to know what it +is!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia, in shocked disapproval. +"What would Genevieve say!"</p> + +<p>Tilly shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Say? She wouldn't say anything—she +couldn't," declared Tilly, unexpectedly, "because +she'd be laughing at us so for digging into Texas +like this and unearthing all its poor little secrets!"</p> + +<p>"But, Tilly, I think we ought to study it," reproved +Cordelia, majestically, above the laugh that +followed Tilly's speech. "Elsie—I mean, Miss +Martin,—what did you find out to-day?"</p> + +<p>Elsie wrinkled her nose in a laughing grimace at +Tilly, then began to speak in an exaggeratedly solemn +tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"I find Texas is so large, and contains so great a +variety of soil, and climate, that any product of the +United States can be grown within its limits. It is +a leader on cotton. Corn, wheat, rice, peanuts, +sugar cane and potatoes are also grown, besides +tobacco."</p> + +<p>"And watermelons, Elsie," cut in Bertha Brown. +"I found in a paper that just last year Texas grew +140,000,000 watermelons."</p> + +<p>"I was coming to the watermelons," observed +Elsie, with dignity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wish I were—I dote on watermelons!" +pouted Tilly in an audible aside that brought a +chuckle of appreciation from Harold Day.</p> + +<p>Cordelia gave her a reproachful look. Elsie +went on, her chin a little higher.</p> + +<p>"Texas is the greatest producer of honey in the +United States. As for the cattle—prior to 1775 +there were vast ranches all over Southwestern Texas, +and herds of hundreds of wild cattle were gathered +and driven to New Orleans. I found some figures +that told the number of animals in 1892, or about +then. I'll give them. They're old now, of course, +but they'll do to show what a lot of animals there +were there then."</p> + +<p>Elsie paused to take breath, but for only a moment.</p> + +<p>"There were 7,500,000 head of cattle, 5,000,000 +sheep, and 1,210,000 horses, besides more than +2,321,000 hogs."</p> + +<p>There was a sudden giggle from Tilly—an explosive +giggle that brought every amazed eye upon +her.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, Tilly," disapproved Elsie, aggrievedly, +"I'm sure I don't see <i>what</i> there was so +very funny in that!"</p> + +<p>"There wasn't," choked Tilly; "only I was +thinking, what an awful noise it would be if all +those 2,321,000 hogs got under the gate at once."</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" scolded Cordelia; but she laughed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>She could not help it. They all laughed. Even the +little boys and girls on the outskirts giggled shrilly, +and stole the opportunity to draw nearer to the +magic circle. Almost at once, however, Cordelia +regained her dignity.</p> + +<p>"Miss Mack, we'll hear from you, please—seriously, +I mean. You haven't told us yet what you've +found."</p> + +<p>Tilly flushed a little.</p> + +<p>"I didn't find anything."</p> + +<p>"Why, Tilly Mack!" cried a chorus of condemning +voices.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't," defended Tilly. "In the first +place I've told everything I can think of: trees, +fruits, history, and everything; and this morning +I just had to go to Mrs. Miller's for a fitting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tilly, <i>another</i> new dress?" demanded Elsie +Martin, her voice a pathetic wail of wistfulness.</p> + +<p>"But there are still so many things," argued Cordelia, +her grave eyes fixed on Tilly, "so many things +to learn that—" She was interrupted by an eager +little voice from the outskirts.</p> + +<p>"I've got something, please, Cordelia. Mayn't +I tell it? It's a brand-newest thing. Nobody's said +it once!"</p> + +<p>Cordelia turned to confront her ten-year-old +cousin, Edith.</p> + +<p>"Why, Edith!"</p> + +<p>"And I have, too," piped up Edith's brother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +Fred, with shrill earnestness. (Fred was eight.) +"And mine's new, too."</p> + +<p>Cordelia frowned thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"But, children, you don't belong to the club. +Only members can talk, you know."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! let's hear it, Cordelia," shrugged Tilly. +"I'm sure if it's <i>new</i>, we need it—of all the old +chestnuts we've heard to-day!"</p> + +<p>"Well," agreed Cordelia, "what is it, Edith? +You spoke first."</p> + +<p>"It's gypsies," announced the small girl, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Gypsies!" chorused the Happy Hexagons in +open unbelief.</p> + +<p>"Yes. There's lots of 'em there—more than +'most anywhere else in the world."</p> + +<p>The girls looked at each other with puzzled eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, I never heard Genevieve say anything +about gypsies," ventured Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Well, they're there, anyhow," maintained Edith; +"I read it."</p> + +<p>"You read it! Where?" demanded Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"In father's big sac'l'pedia." Edith's voice +sounded grieved, but triumphant. "I was up in +auntie's room, and I saw it. It was open on her +bed, and I read it. It said there was coal and iron +and silver, and lots and lots of gypsies."</p> + +<p>There was a breathless hush, followed suddenly +by a shrieking laugh from Tilly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, girls, girls!" she gasped. "That blessed +child means 'gypsum.' I saw that in papa's encyclopedia +just the other day."</p> + +<p>"But what is gypsum?" demanded Alma Lane.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! don't ask me," shuddered Tilly. "I +looked it up in the dictionary, but it only said it was +a whole lot of worse names. All I could make out +was that it had crystals, and was used for dressing +for soils, and for plaster of Paris. <i>Gypsies!</i> Oh, +Edith, Edith, what a circus you are!" she chuckled, +going into another gale of laughter.</p> + +<p>It was Fred's injured tones that filled the first +pause in the general hubbub that followed Tilly's +explanation.</p> + +<p>"You haven't heard mine, yet," he challenged. +"Mine's right!"</p> + +<p>"Well?" questioned Cordelia, wiping her eyes. +(Even Cordelia had laughed till she cried.) "What +is yours, Fred?"</p> + +<p>"It's boats. There hasn't one of you said a single +thing about the boats you were going to ride in."</p> + +<p>"Boats!" cried the girls in a second chorus of +unbelief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't try to talk me out of that," +bristled the boy. "I <i>know</i> what <i>I'm</i> talking about. +Old Mr. Hodges told me himself. He's been in 'em. +He said that years and years ago, when he was a +little boy like me, he and his father and mother +went 'way across the state of Texas in a prairie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +schooner; and I asked father that night what a +schooner was, and he said it was a boat. Well, he +did!" maintained Fred, a little angrily, as a shout +of laughter rose from the girls.</p> + +<p>"And so 'tis a boat—some kinds of schooners," +Harold Day soothed the boy quickly, rising to his +feet, and putting a friendly arm about the small +heaving shoulders. "Come on, son, let's you and +I go over to the house. I've got a dandy picture of +a prairie schooner over there, and we'll hunt it up +and see just what it looks like." And with a ceremonious +"Good day, ladies!" and an elaborate +flourish of his hat toward the Happy Hexagons, +Harold drew the boy more closely into the circle +of his arm and turned away.</p> + +<p>It was the signal for a general breaking up of the +club meeting. Cordelia, only, looked a little anxiously +after the two boys, as she complained:</p> + +<p>"Harold never tells a thing that he knows about +Texas, and he must know a lot of things, even if +he did leave there when he was a tiny little baby!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you fret, Cordy," retorted Tilly. (Cordelia +did not like to be called "Cordy," and Tilly +knew it.) "Harold Day will talk Texas all right +after Genevieve gets back. Besides, you couldn't +expect a boy to join in with a girls' club like us, +just as if he were another girl—specially as he +isn't going to Texas, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Well, all he ever does is just to sit and look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +bored—except when Tilly gets in some of her +digs," chuckled Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Glad I'm good for something, if nothing but to +stir up Harold, then," laughed Tilly, as she turned +away to answer Elsie Martin's anxious: "Tilly, +what color is the new dress? Is it red?"</p> + +<p>It was the next day that the letter came from +Genevieve. Cordelia brought it to the club meeting +that afternoon; and so full of importance and excitement +was she that for once she quite forgot to +open the meeting with her usual ceremony.</p> + +<p>"Girls, girls, just listen to this!" she began +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The Happy Hexagons opened wide their eyes. +Never before had they seen the usually placid Cordelia +like this.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cordelia, you're almost girlish!" observed +Tilly, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Cordelia did not seem even to hear this gibe.</p> + +<p>"It's a letter from Genevieve," she panted, as she +hurriedly spread open the sheet of note paper in her +hand.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Cordelia, and the whole Club," read Cordelia, +excitedly. "I came up yesterday from New +Jersey with the Hardings for two days in New +York. I have been to see the animals at the Zoo +all the afternoon, and I'm going to see the Hippodrome +this evening. That sounds like another animal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +but it isn't one, they say. It's a place all lights +and music and crowds, and with a stage 'most as +big as Texas itself, with scores of real horses and +cowboys riding all over it.</p> + +<p>"I am having a perfectly beautiful time, but I +just can't wait to see my own beloved home on the +big prairie, and have you all there with me. I +sha'n't see it quite so soon though, for father has +been delayed about some of his business, and he +can't come for me quite so soon as he expected. He +says we sha'n't get away from Sunbridge until the +fifth; but he's engaged five sections in a sleeper +leaving Boston at eight <span class="smcap">p. m.</span> So we'll go then sure.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Harding is calling me. Good-by till I see +you. We're coming the third. With heaps of love +to everybody, Your own</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">Genevieve Hartley.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"Well, I like that," bridled Tilly. "Just think—not +go until the fifth!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but just think of going at all," comforted +Alma Lane, hurriedly; "and in sleepers, too! +Sleepers are loads of fun. I rode in one fifty miles, +once—it wasn't in the night, though."</p> + +<p>"I rode in one at night!" Tilly's voice rose +dominant, triumphant.</p> + +<p>"My stars!"</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"Where?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What was it like?"</p> + +<p>"Was it fun?"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell us?"</p> + +<p>Tilly laughed in keen enjoyment of the commotion +she had created.</p> + +<p>"Don't you wish you knew?" she teased. "Just +you wait and see!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but, Tilly, do they lay you down on a little +narrow shelf, really?" worried Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't take off a single thing, anyhow," announced +Bertha, with decision, "not even my shoes. +I'm just sure there'll be an accident!"</p> + +<p>Tilly laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"A fine traveler you'll make, Bertha," she +scoffed. "Sleepers are made to sleep in, young +lady—not to lie awake and worry in, for fear +there'll be an accident and you'll lose your shoes. +As for you, Cordy, and the shelf you're fretting +over—there are shelves, in a way; but you lay +yourself down on them, my child. Nobody else +does it for you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," returned Cordelia, a little stiffly. +Cordelia did not like to be called "my child"—specially +by Tilly, who was not quite sixteen, and +who was the youngest member of the club.</p> + +<p>"But, Tilly, are—are sleepers nice, daytimes?" +asked Edith Wilson, who, as usual, was hovering +near. "I should think they'd be lovely for nights—but +I wouldn't like to have to lie down all day!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tilly laughed so hard at this that Edith grew red +of face indeed before Alma patched matters up and +made peace.</p> + +<p>It was the trip to Texas that was the all-absorbing +topic of discussion that day; and it was the +trip to Texas that Cordelia Wilson was thinking of +as she walked slowly home that night after leaving +the girls at the corner.</p> + +<p>"I wonder—" she began just under her breath; +then stopped short. An old man, known as "Uncle +Bill Hodges," stood directly in her path.</p> + +<p>"Miss Cordelia, I—I want to speak to ye, just a +minute," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Cordelia smiled politely.</p> + +<p>The old man threw a suspicious glance over his +shoulder, then came a step nearer.</p> + +<p>"I ain't tellin' this everywhere, Miss Cordelia, +and I don't want you to say nothin'. You're goin' +to Texas, they tell me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Hodges, I am." Cordelia tried to +make her voice sound properly humble, but pride +would vibrate through it.</p> + +<p>"Well, I—" The man hesitated, looked around +again suspiciously, then blurted out a storm of +words with the rush of desperation. "I—years +ago, Miss Cordelia, I let a man in Boston have a lot +of money. He said 'twas goin' into an oil well out +in Texas, and that when it came back there'd be a +lot more with it a-comin' to me. So I let him have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +it. I liked Texas, anyhow—I'd been there as a +boy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded Cordelia, smiling as she remembered +the prairie schooner that was Fred's "boat."</p> + +<p>"Well, for a while I did get money—dividends, +he called 'em. Then it all stopped off short. They +shut the man up in prison, and closed the office. +And there's all my money! They do be sayin', too, +that there ain't no such place as this oil well there—that +is, not the way he said it was—so big and fine +and promisin'. Well, now, of course I can't go to +see, Miss Cordelia—an old man like me, all the +way to Texas. But you are goin'. So I thought I'd +just ask you to look around a little if you happened +to hear anything about this well. Maybe you could +go and see it, and then tell me. I've written down +the name on this paper," finished the man, thrusting +his trembling fingers into his pocket, and bringing +out a small piece of not over-clean paper.</p> + +<p>"Why, of—of course, Mr. Hodges," promised +Cordelia, doubtfully, as she took the paper. "I'd +love to do anything I could for you—anything! +Only I'm afraid I don't know much about oil wells, +you see. Do they look just like—water wells, with +a pump or a bucket? Bertha's aunt has one of those +on her farm."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, child, I don't know," murmured +the old man, shaking his head sadly, as he turned +away. "Sometimes I think there ain't any such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +things, anyhow. But you'll do your best, I know. +I can trust <i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," returned Cordelia, earnestly, +slipping the bit of paper into the envelope of Genevieve's +letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>In her own room that night Cordelia Wilson got +out her list marked "Things to do in Texas," and +studied it with troubled eyes. She had now one +more item to add to it—and it was already so long!</p> + +<p>She had started the list for her own benefit. +Then had come the request from queer old Hermit +Joe to be on the lookout for his son who had gone +years ago to Texas. After that, commissions for +others followed rapidly. So many people had so +many things they wanted her to do in Texas!—and +nobody wanted them talked about in Sunbridge.</p> + +<p>Slowly, with careful precision, she wrote down +this last one. Then, a little dubiously, she read +over the list.</p> + +<p>See the blue bonnet—the Texas state flower. +Find out if it really is shaped like a bonnet.</p> + +<p>Bring home a piece of prairie grass.</p> + +<p>See a real buffalo.</p> + +<p>Find Hermit Joe's son, John, who ran away to +Texas twenty years ago.</p> + +<p>See an Osage orange hedge.</p> + +<p>See a broncho bursted (obviously changed over +from "busted").</p> + +<p>Find out for Mrs. Miller if cowboys do shoot at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +sight, and yell always without just and due provocation.</p> + +<p>See a mesquite tree.</p> + +<p>Inquire if any one has seen Mrs. Snow's daughter, +Lizzie, who ran away with a Texas man named +Higgins.</p> + +<p>Pick a fig.</p> + +<p>See a rice canal.</p> + +<p>Find out what has become of Mrs. Granger's +cousin, Lester Goodwin, who went to Texas fourteen +years ago.</p> + +<p>See cotton growing and pick a cotton boll, called +"Texas Roses."</p> + +<p>See peanuts growing.</p> + +<p>Inquire for James Hunt, brother of Miss Sally +Hunt.</p> + +<p>See a real Indian.</p> + +<p>Look at oil well for Mr. Hodges, and see if there +is any there.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Now if I can just fix all those people's names +in my mind," mused Cordelia, aloud; "and seems +as if I might—there are only four. John Sanborn, +Lizzie Higgins, Lester Goodwin, and James Hunt," +she chanted over and over again. She was still +droning the same refrain when she fell asleep that +night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE COMING OF GENEVIEVE</h3> + + +<p>Genevieve was to arrive in Sunbridge at three +o'clock on the afternoon of the third of July. Her +father was to remain in Boston until one of the +evening trains. The Happy Hexagons, knowing +Genevieve's plans, decided to give her a welcome befitting +the club and the occasion. They invited +Harold Day, of course, to join them.</p> + +<p>Harold laughed good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll be there all right, at the station," he +assured them. "I've got Mrs. Kennedy's permission +to bring her up to the house; but I don't think +I'll join in on your show. I'll let you girls do that."</p> + +<p>The girls pouted a little, but they were too excited +to remain long out of humor.</p> + +<p>"Don't our dresses look pretty! I know Genevieve'll +be pleased," sighed Elsie Martin, as, long +before the train was due that afternoon, the girls +arrived at the station.</p> + +<p>"Of course she'll be pleased," cried Alma Lane. +"She can't help it. I can hear her laugh and clap +her hands now, when she sees us—and hears us!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So can I," echoed Bertha. "And how her +eyes will dance! I love to see Genevieve's eyes +dance."</p> + +<p>"So do I," chorused the others, fervently.</p> + +<p>Sunbridge was a quiet little town in southern +New Hampshire near the state line. It had wide, +tree-shaded streets, and green-shuttered white +houses set far back in spacious lawns. The station +at this hour was even quieter than the town, and +there were few curious eyes to question the meaning +of the unusual appearance of five laughing, excited +young girls, all dressed alike, and all showing +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>At one minute before three o'clock, a tall, good-looking +youth drove up in a smart trap, and was +hailed with shouts of mingled joy and relief.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Harold, we were just sure you were going +to be late," cried Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Late? Not I—to-day!" laughed the boy. +Then, with genuine admiration: "Say, that is +pretty slick, girls. I'll take off my hat to the Happy +Hexagons to-day all right!" he finished, with an +elaborate flourish.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," twittered Tilly, saucily. "Now +don't you wish you had joined us? But then—<i>you</i> +couldn't have worn a white frock!"</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 322px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.jpg" width="322" height="400" alt=""A TALL, SLENDER GIRL ... APPEARED AT A CAR DOOR"" title=""A TALL, SLENDER GIRL ... APPEARED AT A CAR DOOR"" /> +<span class="caption">"A TALL, SLENDER GIRL . . . APPEARED AT A CAR DOOR"</span> +</div> +<p>A prolonged bell-clanging and the rumble of an +approaching train prevented Harold's reply, and +sent the girls into a flutter of excitement. A moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +later they stood in line, waiting, breathless +with suspense.</p> + +<p>They made a wonderfully pretty picture. Each +girl was in white, even to her shoes and stockings. +Around each waist was a sash of a handsome shade +of blue. The same color showed at the throat and +on the hair.</p> + +<p>Quietly they watched the train roll into the station, +and still quietly they stood until a tall, slender +girl with merry brown eyes and soft fluffy brown +hair appeared at a car door and tripped lightly down +the steps to the platform. They waited only till she +ran toward them; then in gleeful chorus they +chanted:</p> + +<div> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">GENEVIEVE!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>What happened next was a surprise. Genevieve +did not laugh, nor cry out, nor clap her hands. Her +eyes did not dance. She stopped and fumbled with +the fastening of her suit-case. The next minute the +train drew out of the station, and the girls were left +alone in their corner. Genevieve looked up, at that, +and came swiftly toward them.</p> + +<p>They saw then: the brown eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>The girls had intended to repeat their Texas yell; +but with one accord now they cried out in dismay:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Genevieve! Why, Genevieve, you're—crying!"</p> + +<p>"I know I am, and I could shake myself," choked +Genevieve, hugging each girl in turn spasmodically.</p> + +<p>"But, Genevieve, what is the matter?" appealed +Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I don't know—and that's what's +the trouble," wailed Genevieve. "I don't know why +I'm crying when I'm so g-glad to see you. But I +reckon 'twas that—'Texas'!"</p> + +<p>"But we thought you'd like that," argued Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I did—I do," stammered Genevieve, incoherently; +"and it made me cry to think I did—I mean, +to think I do—so much!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we're glad you did, or do, anyhow," +laughed Harold Day, holding out his hand. "And +we're glad you're back again. I've got Jerry here +and the cart. This your bag?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, right here; and thank you, Harold," she +smiled a little mistily. "And girls, you're lovely—just +lovely; and I don't know why I'm crying. But +you're to come over—straight over to the house +this very afternoon. I want to hear that 'T-Texas' +again. I want to hear it six times running!" she +finished, as she sprang lightly into the cart.</p> + +<p>On the way with Harold, she grew more calm.</p> + +<p>"You see, once, last fall, I said I hated Sunbridge, +and that I wouldn't stay," she explained a +little shame-facedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You said you hated it!" cried Harold. "You +never told me that. Why, I thought you liked it +here."</p> + +<p>"I do, now, and I did—very soon, specially +after I'd met some one I could talk Texas to all I +wanted to—<i>you</i>, you know! I reckon I never told +you, but you were a regular safety valve for me in +those days."</p> + +<p>"Was I?" laughed the lad.</p> + +<p>"Yes, even from that first day," nodded Genevieve, +with a half-wistful smile. "Did I ever tell +you the reason, the real reason, why Aunt Julia +called you into the yard that afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no—not that I know of." Harold's face +showed a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'twas this. I'd been here a week, and I +was so homesick and lonesome for father and the +ranch and all. I was threatening to go back. I +declared I'd walk back, if there was no other way. +Poor Aunt Julia! She tried everything. Specially +she tried to have me meet some nice girls, but I just +wouldn't. I said I didn't want any girls that weren't +Texas girls. I didn't want anything that wasn't +Texas. That's what I'd been saying that very day +out under the trees there, when Aunt Julia looked +toward the street, saw you, and called you into the +yard."</p> + +<p>"Is <i>that</i> why she introduced me as the boy who +was born in Texas?" laughed Harold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; and you know how I began to talk Texas +right away."</p> + +<p>"But I couldn't help much—I left there when I +was a baby."</p> + +<p>"I know, but you'd been there," laughed Genevieve, +"and that helped. Then, through you, I met +your cousin Alma, and the rest was easy, for I always +had you for that safety valve, to talk Texas +to. You see, it was just that I got homesick. All +my life I'd lived on the ranch, and things here were +so different. I didn't like to—to mind Mrs. Kennedy +and Miss Jane, very well, I suspect. You see, +at the ranch I'd always had my own way, and—I +liked it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure that's natural," nodded Harold.</p> + +<p>"I know; but I wasn't nice about it," returned +the girl, wistfully. "Father said I must do everything—everything +they said. And I tried to. But +Miss Jane had such heaps of things for me to do, +and such tiresome things, like dusting and practising, +and learning to cook and to sew! And it +all was specially hard when you remember that I +didn't want to come East in the first place. But I +love it here, now; you know I do. Every one has +been so good to me! Aunt Julia is a dear."</p> + +<p>"And—Miss Jane?" queried Harold, eyeing +her a little mischievously.</p> + +<p>Genevieve blushed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Jane? Well, she's 'most a dear, too—sometimes. +As for Sunbridge—I love both the +East and the West now. Don't you see? But, to-day, +coming up from Boston, I got to thinking +about it—my dear prairie home; and how I had +hated to leave it, and how now I was going back +to it with Aunt Julia and the girls all with me. +And I was so happy, so wonderfully happy, that a +great big something rose within me, and I felt so—so +queer, as if I could fly, and fly, and <i>fly!</i> And +then, when I saw the girls all dressed alike so +prettily, and heard the 'Texas, Texas, Texas'—what +did I do? I didn't do anything but cry—<i>cry</i>, +Harold, just as if I didn't like things. And +the girls were so disappointed, I know they +were!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind; I guess you can make them understand—anyhow, +you have me," said Harold, +trying to speak with a lightness that would hide the +fact that her words had made him, too, feel "queer." +Harold did not enjoy feeling "queer."</p> + +<p>A moment later they turned into the broad white +driveway that led up to the Kennedy home.</p> + +<p>On the veranda of the fine old house stood a +sweet-faced, motherly-looking woman with tender +eyes and a loving smile. Near her was a taller, +younger woman with eyes almost as interested, +and a smile almost as cordial.</p> + +<p>"You dears—both of you!" cried Genevieve,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +running up the steps and into the arms of the two +women.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Harold," smiled Mrs. Kennedy over +Genevieve's bobbing head; "thank you for bringing +our little girl home."</p> + +<p>"As if I wasn't glad to do it!" laughed the boy, +gallantly, as he picked up the reins and sprang into +the cart. To the horse he added later, when quite +out of earshot of the ladies: "Jerry, I'm thinking +Genevieve isn't the only one in that house that has +'improved' since last August. It strikes me that +Miss Jane Chick has done a little on her own account. +Did you see that smile? That was a really, +truly smile, Jerry. Not the 'I-suppose-I-must' +kind!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve and the two ladies were still on the +veranda when the five white-clad girls turned in at +the broad front walk.</p> + +<p>"We came around this way home," announced +Tilly. "You <i>said</i> you wanted us."</p> + +<p>"Want you! Well, I reckon I do," cried Genevieve, +springing to her feet. "Come up here this +minute! Now say it—say it again—that thing +you did at the station. I want Aunt Julia to hear +it—and Miss Jane."</p> + +<p>The change in Genevieve's voice and manner was +unconscious, but it was very evident. No one noticed +it apparently, however, but Tilly; and she +only puckered her lips into an odd little smile as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +formed in line with the other girls: Tilly was not +without some experience herself with Miss Jane +and her ways.</p> + +<p>"Now, one, two, three, ready!" counted Cordelia, +sternly, her face a tragedy of responsibility +lest this final triumph of their labors should be anything +less than the glorious success the occasion demanded.</p> + +<p>Once more five eager, girlish countenances faced +squarely front. Once more five fresh young voices +chanted with lusty precision:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">GENEVIEVE!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>It was finished. Cordelia, with the expression of +one from whom the weight of nations has been +lifted, drew a happy sigh, and looked confidently +about for her reward. Almost at once, however, +her face clouded perplexedly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was dancing lightly on her toes and +clapping her hands softly. Mrs. Kennedy was +laughing with her handkerchief to her lips. But +Miss Jane Chick—Miss Jane Chick was sitting +erect, her eyes plainly horrified, her hands clapped +to her ears.</p> + +<p>"Children, children!" she gasped, as soon as +there was a chance for her voice to be heard. "You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +don't mean to say that you did <i>that</i>—at a public +railroad station!"</p> + +<p>Cordelia looked distressed. The other girls bit +their lips and lifted their chins just a little: they +did not like to be called "children."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Chick," stammered Cordelia, "we +didn't think—that is, we wanted to do something +to welcome Genevieve, and—and—" Cordelia +stopped, and swallowed chokingly.</p> + +<p>"But to shout like that," protested Miss Chick. +"You—<i>young ladies!</i>"</p> + +<p>The girls bit their lips still harder and lifted their +chins still higher: they were not quite sure whether +they more disliked to be "children" or "young +ladies"—in that tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Miss Jane," argued Genevieve, "you +know Sunbridge station is just dead, simply dead at +three o'clock in the afternoon. Nobody ever comes +on that train, hardly, and there wasn't a soul around +but that sleepy Mr. Jones and the station men, and +that old Mrs. Palmer. And you know <i>she</i> wouldn't +hear a gun go off right under her nose."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, my dear!" murmured Mrs. Kennedy—but +her eyes were twinkling.</p> + +<p>Cordelia still looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"I know, Genevieve," she frowned anxiously, +"but I never thought of it that way—what others +would think. Maybe we ought not to have done it, +after all. But I'm sure we didn't mean any harm."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Promptly, now, Mrs. Kennedy came to the +rescue.</p> + +<p>"Of course you did not, dear child," she said, +smiling into Cordelia's troubled eyes; "and it was +very sweet and lovely of you girls to think of giving +Genevieve such a pretty welcome. Oh, of course," +she added with a whimsical glance at her sister, +"we shouldn't exactly advise you to make a practice +of welcoming everybody home in that somewhat +startling fashion. That really wouldn't do, you +know. Sunbridge station might not be quite so +dead next time," she finished, meeting Genevieve's +grateful eyes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"That really was dear of you, Aunt Julia," confided +Genevieve some time later, after the girls had +gone, and when she and Mrs. Kennedy were alone +together. (Miss Jane had gone up-stairs.) "Only +think of the pains they took—to get themselves +up to look so pretty, besides learning to give that yell +so finely. I was so afraid they'd be hurt at what +Miss Jane said! And I wouldn't want them hurt—after +all that!"</p> + +<p>"Of course you wouldn't," smiled Mrs. Kennedy; +"and my sister wouldn't either, dear."</p> + +<p>Genevieve stirred restlessly.</p> + +<p>"I know she wouldn't, Aunt Julia; but—but +the girls don't know it. They—they don't understand +Miss Jane."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And do you—always?" The question was +gently put, but its meaning was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>Genevieve colored.</p> + +<p>"Maybe not—quite always; but—Miss Jane +is so—so shockable!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy made a sudden movement. Apparently +she only stooped to pick up a small thread +from the floor, but when she came upright her face +was a deeper red than just that exertion would seem +to occasion.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, have you been to your room since +you came home?" she asked. There were times +when Mrs. Kennedy could change the subject almost +as abruptly as could Genevieve herself.</p> + +<p>"No, Aunt Julia. You know Nancy carried up +my suit-case, and I've been too busy telling you all +about my visit to think of anything else."</p> + +<p>"Oh," smiled Mrs. Kennedy. "I was just wondering."</p> + +<p>Genevieve frowned in puzzled questioning.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going up right away, anyhow," she +said. "Mercy! I reckon I'll go up right now," she +added laughingly, springing to her feet as there +came through the open window behind her the +sound of a clock striking half-past five. "I had no +idea it was so late."</p> + +<p>Genevieve was not many minutes in her room before +she ceased to wonder at Mrs. Kennedy's questioning; +for in plain sight on her dressing-table<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +she soon found a small white box addressed to Genevieve +Hartley. The box, upon being opened, disclosed +in a white velvet nest a beautiful little chatelaine +watch in dark blue enamel and gold.</p> + +<div class='center'> +"To keep Genevieve's time.<br /> +With much love from<br /> +Jane Chick."<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>read Genevieve on the little card that was with the +watch.</div> + +<p>"Oh, oh, oh, how lovely!" breathed the girl, +hovering over the watch in delight. "And to think +what I said!" With a heightened color she turned, +tripped across the room and hurried down the hall +to Miss Jane's door.</p> + +<p>"Miss Jane!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear."</p> + +<p>"May I come in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I—I want to thank you—oh, I do want to +thank you, but I don't know how." Genevieve's +eyes were misty.</p> + +<p>"For the watch? You like it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Like it! I just love it; and I never, never saw +such a beauty!"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like it."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. Over by the dressing-table +Miss Jane was carefully smoothing a refractory +lock of hair into place. She looked so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +calm, so self-contained, so—far away, thought +Genevieve; if it had been Aunt Julia, now!</p> + +<p>Suddenly the girl gave a little skipping run and +enveloped the lady in two wide-flung young arms, +thereby ruffling up more than ever the carefully +smoothed lock of hair.</p> + +<p>"Miss, Jane, I—I've just got to hug you, anyway!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Genevieve, my dear!" murmured Miss +Jane, a little dazedly.</p> + +<p>From the door Genevieve called back incoherently—the +hug had been as short in duration as it had +been sudden in action:</p> + +<p>"I don't think I can be late now, Miss Jane, ever—with +that lovely thing to keep time for me. And +I wanted you to know—next year, when I come +back, I'm just sure I shall cook and sew beautifully, +and do my practising and everything, without once +being told. And if I do sprain my ankle I'll be a +perfect angel—truly I will. And I won't ever keep +folks waiting, either, or—mercy! there's Nancy's +first ring now, and I'm not one bit ready!" she +broke off, as the musical notes of a Chinese gong +sounded from the hall below. The next moment +Miss Jane was alone with her thoughts—and with +the lock of hair that she was still trying to smooth.</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" smiled the lady. Then she turned +abruptly and hastened from the room, her hair still +unsmoothed. "I'll just tell Nancy to be a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +slow about ringing that second gong," she murmured.</p> + +<p>When Genevieve came down-stairs to supper +that night, she brought with her two books: one a +small paper-covered one, the other a larger one +bound in dark red leather.</p> + +<p>"Here's the latest 'Pathfinder'—only I call it +'Path<i>loser</i>,'" she laughed, handing the smaller +book to Miss Jane Chick; "and here is—well, just +see what is here," she finished impressively, spreading +open the leather-covered book before Mrs. +Kennedy's eyes.</p> + +<p>"'Chronicles of the Hexagon Club,'" read Mrs. +Kennedy. "Oh, a journal!" she smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Julia. Isn't it lovely?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is! Who will keep it?"</p> + +<p>"All of us. We are going to take turns. We +shall write a day apiece—we six Happy Hexagons +of the Hexagon Club."</p> + +<p>"Do the girls know about it?" asked Miss Jane.</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I just thought of it yesterday when +I saw the book in the store. Father bought it for +the club—of course <i>my</i> money was gone long ago—at +such a time as <i>this</i>," she explained with laughing +emphasis. "I'm going to show the book to the +girls to-morrow. Won't they be tickled—I mean +pleased," corrected Genevieve, throwing a hasty +glance into Miss Jane's smiling eyes.</p> + +<p>"I think they will," agreed that lady, pleasantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girls were pleased, indeed, when Genevieve +told of her plan and showed the book the next day. +But even so entrancing a subject as a journal kept +by each in turn could not hold their attention long; +for time was very short now, and in every household +there were a dozen-and-one last things to be +done before the momentous fifth of July. Even the +Fourth, with its fun and its firecrackers had no +charms for the Happy Hexagons. Of so little consequence +did they consider it, indeed, that at last +one small boy quite lost his patience.</p> + +<p>"You won't fire my crackers, you won't take me +to the picnic, you won't play ball, you won't do anything," +he complained to his absorbed sister. "I +shall be just glad when this old Texas thing is +over!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>ON THE WAY</h3> + + +<p>All the girls' friends came to see them off at the +station that fifth of July.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! it would never do to spring our Texas +yell to-day," chuckled Tilly, eyeing the assembled +crowd; "but wouldn't I like to, though!"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing dead about Sunbridge now, +sure," laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"I should say not," declared Harold Day, who +had begged the privilege of going to Boston to see +them aboard their train for Washington.</p> + +<p>"For you see," he had argued, "it's to my state, +after all, that you are going, so I ought to be allowed +to do the honors at this end of the trip as long as +I can't at the other!"</p> + +<p>They were off at last, Mrs. Kennedy, Mr. Hartley, +the six girls, and Harold. But what a scrambling +it was, and what a confusion of chatter, +laughter, "good-byes," and "write soons"!</p> + +<p>In Boston there was a thirty-minute wait in the +South Station before their train was due to leave; +but long before the thirty minutes were over, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +usually serene face of Mrs. Kennedy began to look +flushed and worried.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, my dear," she expostulated at last, +"can't you keep those flutterbudget girls somewhere +near together? It will be time, soon, to take our +train, and only Cordelia is in sight. Not even +Harold and your father are here!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed soothingly.</p> + +<p>"I know, Aunt Julia; but they'll be here, I'm +sure. There's still lots of time," she added, glancing +proudly at her pretty new watch.</p> + +<p>"But where are they all?"</p> + +<p>"Tilly and Elsie have gone for some soda water, +and Bertha for a sandwich at the lunch counter. +She said she just couldn't eat a thing before she left +home. Alma Lane has gone to a drug store across +the street. I don't know where father and Harold +are. They went off together, and—oh, here they +are!" she broke off in relief, as the two wanderers +appeared.</p> + +<p>"And now," summoned Mr. Hartley, "we'll be +off to our car! Why, where are the rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they—they aren't all here," frowned +Genevieve, a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>As at Sunbridge, it was a rush and a scramble at +the last. Tilly, Elsie, and Bertha came back, but +Genevieve went to look for Alma Lane; and when +Alma returned without having seen Genevieve, +Harold had to run post-haste for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure, dearie," said Mr. Hartley to his +daughter, laughingly, when at last he had his +charges all in the car, "this is a little worse than +trying to corral a bunch of bronchos!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we won't be so bad again," promised +the girl, waving her hand to Harold, who stood +alone outside the window, watching them a little +wistfully.</p> + +<p>They had a merry time getting settled, and more +than one tired countenance in the car brightened at +sight of the six eager young faces.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get all five sections together," +frowned Mr. Hartley. "I got three here, but the +other two are down near the end of the car—you +know the porter showed you. Do you think we can +make them go, some way?" he questioned Mrs. +Kennedy, anxiously. "I planned for you to have +one of the sections down there by yourself, perhaps, +with two of the young ladies in the other. Will +that do?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it will—and finely, too," declared +the lady. "Genevieve, you and I will go down +there and take one of the girls with us—perhaps +Bertha. That will leave your father for one up +here, Elsie and Alma for another, and Tilly and +Cordelia for the third."</p> + +<p>"I knew she'd put you with Cordelia," chuckled +Bertha to Tilly, under cover of their scramble to +pick out their suit-cases from the pile in which the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +porter had left them. "And I'm sure you ought to +be," she laughed. "There'll be some hopes then +that you'll be kept in order!"</p> + +<p>"Just look to yourself," retorted Tilly, serenely. +"Mrs. Kennedy put <i>you</i> down there near <i>her</i>—remember +that!"</p> + +<p>"I declare, I felt just like an orange," giggled +Elsie, "with all that talk about 'sections.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't see where the shelves are," whispered +Cordelia, craning her short little neck to its full +extent.</p> + +<p>"You'll see them all right," promised Tilly. +"Just wait till it's dark, then—'The goblins'll get +ye if ye don't watch out!'" she quoted, with mock +impressiveness.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I were ten years old, and playing +house," chirped Alma Lane, as she happily frowned +over just the proper place for her bag.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if it were all a dream, and that I shall +wake up right at home," breathed Cordelia. +"Seems as if it just couldn't be true—that we're +really going to Texas! Oh, Genevieve, we can't +ever thank you and your father enough," she finished, +as Genevieve came up the aisle.</p> + +<p>"As if we wanted thanks, after what you've done +for me!" cried Genevieve. "Besides, you girls +can't be half so glad to go as I am to have you!"</p> + +<p>Some time later the porter began to make up the +berths.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tilly nudged Cordelia violently.</p> + +<p>"There's shelf number one, Cordy. How do +you think you'll like it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Cordelia was too absorbed even to notice the +hated "Cordy." With wide-eyed, breathless interest +she was watching the porter.</p> + +<p>"I think—it's the most wonderful thing—I +ever saw," she breathed in an awestruck voice.</p> + +<p>It was after the car was quiet that night that +Genevieve, in her upper berth, pulled apart the +heavy curtains and peeped out into the long narrow +aisle between the swaying draperies.</p> + +<p>The train was moving very rapidly. The air was +heavy and close. The night was an uncomfortably +warm one. Genevieve had been too excited to sleep. +Even yet it did not seem quite real—that the Happy +Hexagons were all there with her, and that they +were going to her far-away Texas home.</p> + +<p>With a sigh the girl fell back on her pillow, and +tried to coax sleep to come to her. But sleep refused +to come. Instead, the whole panorama of her +Eastern winter unrolled itself before her, peopled +with little fairy sprites, who danced with twinkling +feet and smiled at her mockingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know you," murmured Genevieve, +drowsily. "I know you all. You—you little black +one—you're the cake I forgot in the oven, and let +burn up. And you're the lessons I didn't learn—there +are heaps of you! And you—you're those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +horrid scales I never could catch up with. My, how +you run now! And you—you little shamed one +over in the corner—you're the prank I played on +Miss Jane. . . . Oh, you can dance now—but you +won't, by and by! Next year there won't be any of +you—not a one left. I'm going to be so good, so +awfully good; and I'm not going to ever forget, or +to cause anybody any trouble, or—"</p> + +<p>With a start Genevieve sat erect in her berth, fully +awake.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! What a jounce that was!" she cried, +just above her breath. "But we seem to be going +all right now."</p> + +<p>Cautiously she parted her curtains and peeped +out again. The next instant she almost gave a little +shriek: she was looking straight into Bertha +Brown's upraised, startled eyes, just below her.</p> + +<p>"Was that an accident?" chattered Bertha. "I +told you there'd be one! I'm all dressed, anyhow—if +'tis!"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h! No, goosey," chuckled Genevieve.</p> + +<p>She would have said more but, at that moment, +from up the aisle sounded a sibilant "S-s-s-s!" +They turned to see a somewhat untidy fluff of red +hair above a laughing, piquant face.</p> + +<p>"It's Tilly! She's motioning to us. Say, let's +go," whispered Genevieve. And cautiously she began +to let herself down from her perch.</p> + +<p>The next moment Bertha, fully dressed, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +Genevieve in her long, dark blue kimono, were tripping +softly up the aisle.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're both down here," exulted Genevieve, +as she climbed into the lower berth.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Cordelia was afraid," giggled Tilly, "so +I came down."</p> + +<p>"Tilly!—I was not," disputed Cordelia, in an +indignant whisper. "You came of your own accord."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Tilly's fooling, and we know it," +soothed Bertha, climbing into the berth after Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bertha Brown, you've got your shoes +on!" gasped Tilly, forgetting to whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have," retorted Bertha. "Do you +suppose—sh!"</p> + +<p>There was a tug at the curtains, and Elsie Martin's +round, good-natured face peered in.</p> + +<p>"Well, I like this," she bridled. "A special +meeting of the Hexagon Club, and me not notified! +I heard Genevieve and Bertha giggling in the aisle. +Are you all here?"</p> + +<p>"All but Alma," rejoined Tilly, in an exultant +whisper. "Say, get her, too!"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, if this isn't just a lark," crowed +Bertha, gleefully, when the last of the six girls had +crowded themselves into the narrow berth.</p> + +<p>"Ouch! my head," groaned Genevieve, as a soft +thud threw the other girls into stifled laughter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pooh! I've been hitting my head against the +up-stairs flat ever since I went to bed," quoth Elsie. +"Isn't it fun! Now let's talk."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Texas, of course," cut in Tilly. "Girls, girls, +wouldn't it be glorious to give our Texas yell, +though, and see what happened!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped the shocked Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wasn't going to, of course," chuckled +Tilly, softly. "I was just imaginin', you know."</p> + +<p>"But even this—I'm not sure we ought—" began +Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not; you never are, Cordy," +agreed Tilly, smoothly.</p> + +<p>"But let's talk Texas—we can whisper, you +know. Tell us about Texas, Genevieve," cut in +pacifier Alma, hurriedly. "What's it like—the +ranch?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve drew a happy sigh.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's like—it's like nothing in Texas, we +think," she breathed. "Of course we don't think +any other ranch could come up to the Six Star!"</p> + +<p>Tilly gave a sudden cry.</p> + +<p>"The what?"</p> + +<p>"The Six Star—our ranch, you know."</p> + +<p>"You mean it's named the 'Six Star Ranch'?" +demanded Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Sure! Didn't I ever tell you?" retorted Genevieve +in plain surprise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tilly clapped her hands softly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Did</i> you! Well, I should say not! You've always +called it just 'the ranch.' And now—why, +girls, don't you see?—it's <i>our</i> ranch. It couldn't +have had a better name if we'd had it built to order. +It's the Six Star Ranch—and we're the six star +girls—the Happy Hexagons. And to think we +never knew it before!"</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of half-stifled exclamations +of delight; then Cordelia demanded anxiously:</p> + +<p>"But, Genevieve, will they be glad to see us, +really—all your people out there?"</p> + +<p>"Glad! I reckon they will be," averred Genevieve, +warmly. "The boys will give us a rousing +welcome, and there won't be anything too good for +Mr. Tim and Mammy Lindy to do."</p> + +<p>"Who are they?" asked Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tim is the ranch foreman, 'the boss,' the +boys call him. He's been with us ever since I can +remember, and he's so good to me! Mammy Lindy +is—well, Mammy Lindy is a dear! You'll love +Ol' Mammy. She's been just a mother to me ever +since my own mother died eight years ago." Genevieve's +voice faltered a little, then went on more +firmly. "She's a negro woman, you know. Her +people were slaves, once."</p> + +<p>"And—the—boys?" asked Cordelia, dubiously. +"Are they your—brothers, Genevieve?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed—a little more loudly than +perhaps she realized.</p> + +<p>"Brothers!—well, hardly! The boys are the +cowboys—on the ranch, you know. My, but they'll +give us a welcome! I reckon they'll ride into town +to give it, too, in all their war paint. Just you wait +till you see the boys—and hear them!" And Genevieve +laughed again.</p> + +<p>All in the dark Cordelia looked distinctly shocked; +but, being in the dark, nobody noticed it.</p> + +<p>"Well, I for one just can't wait," began Tilly, +hugging herself with her arms about her knees. +"Only think, it'll be whole days <i>now</i> before we get +there, and—"</p> + +<p>"Young ladies!"</p> + +<p>Tilly stopped with a little cry of dismay. A man's +voice had spoken close to her ear.</p> + +<p>"Young ladies," came the mellow tones again. "I +begs yo' pardon, but de lady what belongs down in +number ten says maybe you done forgot dat dis am +a <i>sleepin'</i> car."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia!" breathed Genevieve. "She's +number ten."</p> + +<p>"She sent the porter," gasped Cordelia. "How—how +awful!—and you're in my house, too," she +almost sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Now I know we're playing house," tittered +Alma Lane, hysterically, as she followed Genevieve +out of the berth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once more in her own quarters, Genevieve lay +back on her pillow with a remorseful sigh.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it's so much easier to <i>say</i> you'll +never give anybody any trouble than 'tis to <i>do</i> it," +she lamented, as she turned over with a jerk.</p> + +<p>The girls began the "Chronicles of the Hexagon +Club" the next morning. Genevieve made the first +entry. She dwelt at some length on the confusion +of the train-taking, both at Sunbridge and Boston. +She also had something to say of Tilly Mack. She +gave a full account, too, of the midnight session +of the Hexagon Club in Cordelia's berth.</p> + +<p>"And I'm ashamed that Aunt Julia had to be +ashamed of me so soon," she wrote contritely.</p> + +<p>Cordelia Wilson had agreed to make the second +entry in the book; but the heat, the loss of sleep, +and the strangeness and excitement added to her +distress that "her house" should have been made +to seem a disgrace in the eyes of the whole car, all +conspired to make her feel so ill that she declared +she could not think of writing for a day or +two.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, you sha'n't write; we'll hand +the book to Tilly," said Genevieve, "and then we'll +give it to some of the others. But I'll tell you what +we will do, Cordelia; you shall make the last entry +in the book just before we leave the train at Bolo. +And you can make it a sort of retrospect—a 'review +lesson' of the whole, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I thought the others—won't they each +tell their day?"</p> + +<p>"That's <i>just</i> what they'll tell—their day," retorted +Genevieve, whimsically. "You <i>know</i> what +most of them are. Alma Lane would be all right, +and would give a true description of everything; +only she would go into particulars so, that she would +tell everything she saw from the windows, and just +what she had to eat all day, down to the last +olive."</p> + +<p>"I know," nodded Cordelia, with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"As for Tilly—you can't get real sense, of +course, from her part. If there's any nonsense going, +Tilly Mack will find it and trot it out. Bertha +Brown will take up the most of her space by saying +'I always said that—' etc., etc. Bertha is a dear—but +you know she does just love to say 'I told +you so.' Elsie will write clothes, of course. We +shall find out what everybody has on when Elsie +writes."</p> + +<p>Cordelia laughed aloud—then clapped her hand +to her aching head.</p> + +<p>"You poor dear! What a shame," sympathized +Genevieve. "But, Cordelia, why does Elsie think +so much of clothes? Mercy! for my part I think +they're the most tiresome sort of things to bother +with; and it's such a waste of time to be having +to change your dress always!"</p> + +<p>Cordelia smiled; then her face sobered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor Elsie! I'm sorry for Elsie. She does +have such an unhappy time over clothes."</p> + +<p>"Why? How?—or isn't it fair to tell?" added +Genevieve, with quick loyalty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it's fair. Everybody knows it, 'most, +and I supposed you did. Elsie herself tells of it. +You know she lives with her aunt, Mrs. Gale. +Well, Mrs. Gale has three daughters, Fannie, about +twenty-one, I guess, and the twins, nineteen; and +she just loves to make over their things for Elsie—so +she does it."</p> + +<p>"Are they so very—poor, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; they aren't poor at all. I don't think +she really has to do it. Aunt Mary says she's just +naturally thrifty, and that she loves to make them +over. But you see, poor Elsie almost never has +a new dress—of new material, I mean. Now +Elsie loves red; but Fannie wears blue a lot, +and the twins like queer shades like faded-out +greens and browns which Elsie abhors. Poor +Elsie—no wonder she's always looking at +clothes!"</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; no wonder," nodded Genevieve, her +pitying eyes on Elsie far down the aisle—Elsie, +who, in a mustard-colored striped skirt and pongee +blouse, was at that moment trying to perk up the +loppy blue bows on a somewhat faded tan straw +hat. "Well, anyhow," added Genevieve, with a +sigh, "just remember, Cordelia, that you're to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +the last day of the trip in the Chronicles. Now lie +down and give your poor head a rest."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Long before the last day of the journey came, +Cordelia had quite recovered from her headache; +but, in accordance with Genevieve's plan, she did +not add her share to the Chronicles until the appointed +time. Then, with almost a reverent air, +she accepted the book and pen from Genevieve's +hands, and returned to the seclusion of her seat, +rejoicing that Tilly was playing checkers with +Bertha, and so would not, presumably, disturb her—for +a time, at least.</p> + +<p>"To-day, at noon, we are to arrive at Bolo," she +wrote a little unevenly; then with a firmer hand +she went on. "Genevieve says this ought to be a +retrospect, and touch lightly upon the whole trip; +so I will try to make it so.</p> + +<p>"It has been a beautiful journey. Nothing serious +has happened, though Bertha has worn her shoes +all the time expecting it. The best thing, so far, +was our lovely day in Washington that Mr. Hartley +gave us, and the President. (I mean, we saw him +and he smiled.) And the worst thing (except that +first night in my berth that Genevieve wrote of) +was the time we lost Tilly for three whole hours, +and Mrs. Kennedy got so nervous and white and +frightened. We supposed, of course, she had fallen +off, or jumped off, or got left off at some station.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +But just as we were talking with the porter about +telegraphing everywhere, she danced in with two +very untidy, unclean little Armenian children. It +seems she had been in the emigrant car all the time +playing with the children and trying to make the +men and women talk their queer English. I never +knew that gentle Mrs. Kennedy could speak so +sharply as she did then to Tilly.</p> + +<p>"And now—since Tuesday, some time—we +have really been in Texas. Some things look just +like Eastern things, but others are so strange and +queer. It is very hot—I mean, very warm, too. +But then, we have just as warm days in Sunbridge, +I guess. The windmills look so queer—there are +such a lot of them; but they look pretty, too. Some +of the towns are very pretty, also, with their red +roofs and blue barns and houses. Genevieve says +lots of them are German villages.</p> + +<p>"In some places lots of things are growing, but +in others it is all just gray and bare-looking with +nothing much growing except those queer prairie-dog +cities with the funny little creatures sitting on +top of their houses, or popping down into their +holes only to turn around and look at you out of +their bright little eyes. We had a splendid chance +to see them once when our train stopped right in +the middle of a prairie for a long time. We got off +and walked quite a way with Mr. Hartley. I saw +a rattlesnake, and I'm afraid I screamed. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +screamed again when the horrid thing wiggled into +one of the dog houses. Mr. Hartley says they live +together sometimes, but if I were that dog he +wouldn't live with me!</p> + +<p>"We have seen lots of cattle and goats and hogs—though +Tilly says she hasn't seen any of the +latter under any gate yet. I have seen a mesquite +tree (so I have done one of my things), and it <i>does</i> +have thorns. We are on another prairie now, and +oh, how big it is, and such a lot of grass as there +is on it—just as far as you can see, grass, grass, +grass! I guess there won't be any danger of my not +having plenty of that to take home. I have seen +lots of men on horseback, but I don't know whether +they were cowboys or not. They did not shoot, anyway, +but some of them did yell.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve says cowboys are to meet us, and +that probably they will come away to Bolo in full +war paint. I thought it was only Indians who +painted—except silly ladies, of course—and I was +going to say so; but Tilly was there, so I didn't +like to. Of course I ought not to mind the cowboys—if +Genevieve likes them, and they are her +friends; but I can't help remembering what Mrs. +Miller told me about their 'shooting up towns' in +a very dreadful way when they were angry. I hope +none of the men I want to find will turn out to be +cowboys." (Here there were signs of an attempted +erasure, but the words still stood, and immediately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +after them came another sentence.) "That is, I +mean I should hate to find that any friends of mine +had become cowboys.</p> + +<p>"I have just been reading over what I have written, +and I am disappointed in it. I am sure I ought +to have mentioned a great many things about which +I have been silent. But there were so many things, +and they all crowded at once before me, so that I +had to just touch on the big things and the tall +things—like windmills, for instance.</p> + +<p>"We are getting nearer Bolo now, and I must +stop and eat some luncheon, Genevieve says, as we +sha'n't have anything else till supper on the ranch. +Oh, I am so excited! Seems as if I couldn't draw +a breath deep enough. And the idea of trying to +eat when I feel like this!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>THE BOYS PREPARE A WELCOME</h3> + + +<p>On the back gallery of the long, low ranch house, +the boys were waiting for Teresa to ring the bell +for supper. Comfortably they lolled about on hammocks, +chairs, and steps, with their shirts open at +the neck and plentifully powdered with the dust of +the corral.</p> + +<p>From the doorway, Tim Nolan, the ranch foreman, +spoke to them hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"See here, boys, I'm right sorry, but I've got to +see Benson to-morrow about those steers. That +means that I've got to go as far as Bolo to-night, +and that I sha'n't be back in time to start with the +rest of you to meet the folks. But I'll see you in +Bolo day after to-morrow at noon. The train is +due then. Now be on hand, all of you that can. +We want Miss Genevieve and her friends to have a +right royal welcome. I reckon now I'd better be +off. So long! Now remember—day after to-morrow +at noon!" he finished, turning away.</p> + +<p>"As if we'd be a-forgettin' it," grinned Long +John, a tall, lank fellow sprawled in a hammock,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +"when the little mistress hain't set her pretty foot +on the place since last August!"</p> + +<p>"If only she wa'n't bringin' all them others," +groaned the short, sandy-haired man on the steps. +"I'd just like to rope the whole bunch and send 'em +back East again, old lady and all—all but the little +mistress, of course. Boys, what are we a-goin' to +do with an old lady—even though she ain't so +awful old—and five tom-fool girls on the Six Star +Ranch?"</p> + +<p>"Ees not the Señorita a gurrl, also?" laughed a +dark-eyed Mexican from his perch on the gallery +railing. "Eh, Reddy?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Pedro," retorted the sandy-haired man, +testily. (Pedro was the only Mexican cowboy at +the ranch, and even he was barely tolerated.) "But +the little mistress ain't no tenderfoot girl. She don't +howl at a rattlesnake nor jump at a prairie dog; +and she knows how to ride, and which end of a gun +goes off!"</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh, followed by a long +silence—the boys did not usually talk so much together, +but to-night a curious restlessness pervaded +them all. Suddenly the tall man in the hammock +pulled himself erect.</p> + +<p>"Look a-here, boys, that's jest it," he began in a +worried voice. "What if the little mistress has +changed? What if she hain't no use for us and the +ranch any more? I never told ye, but at the first,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +last August, 'fore she went away, I heard the boss +and Mr. Hartley a-talkin'. They was sayin' she'd +got to go East to learn how to live like a lady +should—to know girls, and books, and all that. +They said she was runnin' wild here with only us +for playmates, and that they had just got ter pasture +her out where the grass was finer, and the +fences nearer tergether."</p> + +<p>"Did they say—that?" gasped half a dozen +worried voices.</p> + +<p>"They sure did—and more. They said two +real ladies was a-goin' ter take her and make her +like themselves—a lady. And, boys, I was wonderin'—how +is a lady goin' ter like us, and the +ranch?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's tense silence. The boys +were staring, wide-eyed and appalled, into each +other's faces.</p> + +<p>From somewhere came a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"Gorry!—she can't, she just can't, after all +her book-learnin' and culturin'," groaned a new +voice.</p> + +<p>For a time no one spoke; then Reddy cleared his +throat.</p> + +<p>"Look a-here, there ain't but jest one thing to +do. If she don't like the ranch—and us—we'll +jest have to make the ranch—and us—so she will +like 'em."</p> + +<p>"How?" demanded a skeptical chorus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Slick 'em up—and us," retorted the sandy-haired +man, with finality. "I was raised East, and +I know the sort of doin's they hanker after. To-morrow +mornin' we'll begin. I'll show you; you'll +see," he finished in a louder tone, as Teresa's clanging +supper bell sent them in a stampede through +the long covered way that led to the dining-room +which, with the cook room, occupied the large, low +building thirty feet to the rear of the ranch house.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Tim Nolan arrived at the Bolo station a +little before noon two days later, he stared in open-mouthed +wonder at the sight that greeted his eyes. +In a wavering, straggling line stood ten stiff, red-faced, +miserable men, dressed in what was, to Tim +Nolan, the strangest assortment of garments he had +ever seen.</p> + +<p>Two of the men were in dead black, from head +to foot. Four wore stiff, not over-clean white shirts. +Six sported flaming red neckties. One had unearthed +from somewhere a frock coat three sizes +too small for him, which he wore very proudly, +however, over a flannel shirt adorned with a red-and-green +silk handkerchief knotted at the throat. +Another displayed a somewhat battered silk hat. +But, whatever they wore, each showed a face upon +which hope, despair, pride, shame, and physical +misery were curiously blended.</p> + +<p>For an instant Tim Nolan peered at them with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +unrecognizing eyes; then he gave a low ejaculation.</p> + +<p>"Reddy! Carlos! Jim! Boys!" he gasped. +"What in the world is the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>"Eet ees that we welcome the little Señorita an' +her frien's," bowed Pedro, doffing his sombrero +which was the only part of his usual costume that +he had retained.</p> + +<p>"But—I don't understand," demurred the foreman; +"these rigs of yours! Reddy, where in time +did you corral that coat?"</p> + +<p>Reddy shifted from one uneasy foot to the other.</p> + +<p>"Pedro's told you—we're here to welcome the +little mistress, of course. We've slicked up. We—we +didn't want the shock too sudden—from the +East, you know."</p> + +<p>For another moment Tim Nolan stared; then +he threw back his head and laughed—laughed till +the faces of the men before him grew red with +something more than discomfort.</p> + +<p>At that moment a pretty young girl in khaki and +a cowboy hat made her appearance astride a frisky +little mustang. She wore a cartridge belt about her +waist—though there was no revolver in her holster.</p> + +<p>"Is Genevieve coming to-day, sure?" she called +out joyfully. "I heard she was, and I've come to +meet her."</p> + +<p>"There, boys," bantered the ranch foreman, +"now here's a young lady who knows how to welcome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +the mistress of the Six Star Ranch!" Then, +to the girl: "Sure, Miss Susie, we do expect Genevieve, +and we're here to welcome her, as you see," +he finished with a sweep of his broad-brimmed +hat.</p> + +<p>It looked, for a moment, as if the wavering, straggling +men would break ranks and run; but a sudden +distant whistle, and a sharp command from +Reddy brought them right about face.</p> + +<p>"Buck up, boys," he ordered sharply. "I reckon +the little mistress ain't a-goin' ter turn us down! +She'll like it. You'll see!"</p> + +<p>The train had scarcely come to a stop before +Genevieve was off the car steps.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tim, Mr. Tim—here I am! Oh, how +good you look!" she cried, holding out both her +hands. A minute later she turned to introduce the +embarrassed foreman to Mrs. Kennedy and the girls, +who, with her father, were following close at her +heels. This task was not half completed, however, +when she spied the red-faced, anxious-eyed men.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Tim had done, she stared dumbly for a +moment; then, leaving the rest of the introductions +to her father, she ran toward them.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's the boys—our boys! Carlos, Long +John, Reddy! But what <i>is</i> the matter? How queer +you look! Is anybody sick—or—dead?" she +stammered, plainly in doubt what to say.</p> + +<p>"Sure, it's for you—we're a-welcomin' you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +exploded Long John, jerking at his collar which was +obviously too small for him.</p> + +<p>Genevieve's face showed a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>"But these clothes!—why are you like this?—and +after all I've promised the girls about you, too!"</p> + +<p>"You mean—you don't like it—this?" demanded +Reddy, incredulous hope in his eyes and +voice.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't like it! I've been promising +the girls all the way here that you'd give them a +welcome that <i>was</i> a welcome! And now—but why +did you do it, boys?"</p> + +<p>Long John drew himself to his full height.</p> + +<p>"Why? 'Cause Reddy said to," he answered. +"Reddy said we'd better ease up on the shock it +would be to you—here, after all you'd been used +to back East—fine clothes, fine feed, and fine doin's +all around, to say nothin' of books and learnin' in +between times; so we—we tried to break ye in +easy. That's all," he finished, a little lamely.</p> + +<p>"And then these clothes mean—that?" demanded +the girl.</p> + +<p>Long John nodded dumbly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave a ringing laugh, but her eyes +grew soft as she extended her hand to each man in +turn.</p> + +<p>"What old dears you are—every one of you!" +she exclaimed. "Now go home quick, and get +comfortable." She would have said more, but some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +one called her and she turned abruptly. Cordelia +Wilson, looking half frightened, half exultant, but +wholly excited, was pulling at her sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, Genevieve, quick," she was panting; +"is that a cowboy—that, over there—talking to +your father?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve turned with a wondering frown. The +next moment she burst into a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cordelia, Cordelia, you will be the death of +me, yet! No, that isn't a cowboy. It's Susie Billings. +She lives on a ranch near here."</p> + +<p>"A girl—dressed like that—and carrying a +revolver! Just a common 'Susie!'" gasped Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Yes—just a common 'Susie,'" twinkled +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"But I thought she was a—a cowboy," quavered +Cordelia. "You <i>said</i> they'd be here in—in all +their war paint!"</p> + +<p>From behind them sounded a muffled snort and +a low-voiced:</p> + +<p>"Boys, she thinks that's a cowboy! Come on—say +we show 'em! Eh?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed softly at what Cordelia had +said, and at the disappointment in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Cowboys? Well, they <i>are</i> here," she acknowledged +with twitching lips, "and in their war paint, +too—of a kind! They're right here—Why, +they're <i>gone</i>," she broke off. "Never mind," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +laughed, as she caught sight of a silk hat and a black +coat hurrying toward a group of saddled ponies. +"I reckon you'll see all the cowboys you want to +before you go back East again. Now come up and +meet Susie—and she hasn't, really, any revolver +there, Cordelia, in spite of that cartridge belt and +holster. She's always rigging up that way. She +likes it!"</p> + +<p>Susie proved to be "a girl just like us," as Cordelia +amazedly expressed it to Alma Lane. She +was certainly a very pleasant one, they all decided. +But even Susie could not keep their eyes from wandering +to the unfamiliar scene around them.</p> + +<p>It was a bare little station set in the midst of a +bare little prairie town, and quite unlike anything +the Easterners had ever seen before. Broad, dusty +streets led seemingly nowhere. Low, straggling +houses stretched out lazy lengths of untidiness, except +where a group of taller, more pretentious buildings +indicated the stores, a hotel or two, several +boarding houses, and numerous saloons and dance +halls.</p> + +<p>From the station doorway, a blanketed Indian +looked out with stolid, unsmiling face. Leaning +against a post a dreamy-eyed Mexican in tight +trousers, red sash, and tall peaked hat, smoked a +cigarette. Halfway down the platform a tired-looking +man in heavy cowhide boots and rough +clothes, watched beside a huge canvas-topped wagon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +beyond which could be seen the switching tails of +six great oxen.</p> + +<p>"There's Fred's 'boat,'" remarked Bertha, +laughingly, to Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Where? What?" Cordelia had been trying to +look in all directions at once.</p> + +<p>"That prairie schooner down there."</p> + +<p>"Now that looks like the pictures," asserted +Cordelia. "I wonder if the cowboys will."</p> + +<p>"I declare, the whole thing is worse than a three-ring +circus," declared Tilly, aggrievedly, to Genevieve. +"I simply can't see everything!"</p> + +<p>"All aboard for the ranch," called Mr. Hartley, +leading the way around to the other side of the +station; and like a flock of prairie chickens, as +Genevieve put it, they all trooped after him.</p> + +<p>"Why, what funny horses!" cried Tilly, as Mr. +Hartley stopped before a large, old-fashioned three-seated +carriage drawn up to the platform.</p> + +<p>At Genevieve's chuckling laugh, Tilly threw a +sharper glance toward the two gray creatures attached +to the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Why, they aren't horses at all—yes, they are—no, +they aren't, either!"</p> + +<p>"I always heard young ladies were a bit changeable," +grinned Tim Nolan, mischievously; "but do +they always change their minds as often as that, +Miss?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do—when the occasion demands it,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +retorted Tilly, with a merry glance; and Tim Nolan +laughed appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"Well, they aren't horses," smiled Mr. Hartley, +as he gave his hand to help Mrs. Kennedy into the +carriage. "They happen to be mules. Now, Miss +Tilly, if you'll come in here with Mrs. Kennedy, +we'll put two other young ladies and myself in the +other two seats, and leave Genevieve to do the +honors in one of the ranch wagons with the rest of +you. The baggage, the boys are already putting in +the other wagon, I see," he added, looking back to +where two men were busy with a pile of trunks and +bags. "They'll come along after us. Mr. Tim is +on his horse, of course. We'll let him show us the +way. Now stow yourselves comfortably," he admonished +his guests. "You know we have an +eighteen-mile ride ahead of us!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>CORDELIA SEES A COWBOY</h3> + + +<p>Through the broad, dusty streets, by the straggling +houses, and out on to the boundless sea of +grass trailed the carriage and the ranch wagons, +with Mr. Tim in the lead.</p> + +<p>Five pairs of eyes grew wide with wonder and +awe.</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose anything in the world could be +so—so far," breathed Cordelia, who was with Mr. +Hartley on the front seat of the carriage.</p> + +<p>"No wonder Genevieve was always talking about +'space, wide, wide space,'" cried Bertha. "Why, +it's just like the ocean—only more so, because +there aren't any waves."</p> + +<p>"As if anything could be more like the ocean +than the ocean itself," giggled Tilly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley laughed good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Miss Bertha," he nodded. "Just +you wait till there's a little more wind, and you'll +see some waves, I reckon. It's mighty still just +now; and yet—there, look! Over there to the +right—see?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>They all looked, and they all saw. They saw far +in the distance the green change to gray, and the +gray to faint purple, and back again to green, while +curious shifting lights and shadows glancing across +the waving blades of grass, made them ripple like +water in the sunlight. At the same time, from +somewhere, came a soft, cool wind.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is—it is just like the ocean," exulted +Cordelia. "I've seen it look like that down to Nantasket, +'way, 'way off at sea."</p> + +<p>"I told you 'twas," triumphed Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," observed Tilly, demurely, +"they must be awfully dry waves—not much fun +to jump!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly, how can you?" protested Cordelia. +"How you do take the poetry out of anything! +I believe you'd take the poetry out of—of Shakespeare +himself!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Never saw much in him to take out," +shrugged Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Tilly can't see poetry in anything that doesn't +jingle like 'If you love me as I love you, no knife +can cut our love in two,'" chanted Bertha.</p> + +<p>"My dears!" remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy, +feebly.</p> + +<p>Tilly turned with swift pacification.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, Mrs. Kennedy. I'm used to +it. They can't trouble me any!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was Mr. Hartley who broke the silence that +followed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Cordelia," he asked laughingly, +"what is the matter? You've been peering in all +directions, and you look as if you hadn't found +what you were hunting for. You weren't expecting +to find soda fountains and candy stores on the +prairie, were you?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia smiled and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Of course not, Mr. Hartley! I was looking for +the blue bonnets—the flowers, you know. Genevieve +said they grew wild all through the prairie +grass."</p> + +<p>"And so they do—specially, early in the spring, +my dear. I wish you could see them, then."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could—Genevieve has told me so +much about them. She says they're the state flower. +I thought they had such a funny name; I wanted +to pick one, if I could. She says they're lovely, +too."</p> + +<p>"They are, indeed, and I wish you could see +them when they are at their best," rejoined Mr. +Hartley; then he turned to Bertha, who had been +listening with evident interest. "In the spring it's +a blue ocean, Miss Bertha—I wish you could see +the wind sweep across it then! And I wish you +could smell it, too," he added with a laugh. "I +reckon you wouldn't think it much like your salty, +fishy east wind," he finished, twinkling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, but we just love that salty, fishy east wind, +every time we go near the shore," retorted a chorus +of loyal Eastern voices; and Mr. Hartley laughed +again.</p> + +<p>In the ranch wagon behind them, Genevieve was +doing the honors of the prairie right royally. Here, +there, and everywhere she was pointing out something +of interest. In the ranch wagon, too, the +marvelous hush and charm of limitless distance had +wrought its own spell; and all had fallen silent.</p> + +<p>It was Alma Lane who broke the pause.</p> + +<p>"What are all those deep, narrow paths, such a +lot of them, running parallel to the wheel tracks?" +she asked curiously. "I've been watching them ever +since we left Bolo. They are on both sides, too."</p> + +<p>"They're made by the cattle," answered Genevieve; +"such a lot of them, you know, traveling +single file on their way to Bolo. Bolo is a 'cow +town'—that is, they ship cattle to market from +there."</p> + +<p>"Poor things," sighed Elsie, sympathetically. +"I saw some yesterday from the train. I thought +then I never wanted to eat another piece of beefsteak—and +I adore beefsteak, too."</p> + +<p>Genevieve sobered a little.</p> + +<p>"I know it; I know just how you feel. I hate +that part—but it's business, I suppose. I reckon +I hate business, anyhow—but I love the ranch! +I can't get used to the branding, either."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Elsie.</p> + +<p>Genevieve shook her head. A look of pain crossed +her face.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me, Elsie, please. You'll find out +soon enough. Branding is business, too, I suppose—but +it's horrid. Mammy Lindy says that +the first time I saw our brand on a calf and realized +what it meant and how it got there, I cried for +hours—for days, in fact, much of the time."</p> + +<p>"Why, Genevieve," cried Elsie, wonderingly. +"How dreadful! What is a brand? I thought +'brand' meant the kind of coffee or tea one drank."</p> + +<p>Alma frowned and threw a quick look into Genevieve's +face.</p> + +<p>"What a funny little town Bolo is!" she exclaimed, +with a swift change of subject. "I declare, +it looked 'most as sleepy as Sunbridge."</p> + +<p>"Sleepy!" laughed Genevieve, her face clearing, +much to Alma's satisfaction. "You should see Bolo +when it's really awake—say when some association +of cattlemen meet there. And there's going to be +one next month, I think. There's no end of fun +and frolic and horse-racing then, with everybody +there, from the cowboys and cattle-kings to the +trappers and Indians. You wouldn't think there +was anything sleepy about Bolo then, I reckon," +nodded Genevieve, gayly.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, quick—look!—off there," cried +Elsie, excitedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Some more of Fred's 'boats'—three of them +this time," laughed Alma, her eyes on the three +white-topped wagons glistening in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>"Boats?" questioned Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"That's what little Fred Wilson told us we were +going to ride in," explained Alma. "He said they +had prairie schooners here, and schooners were +boats, of course."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"I wish Fred could see these 'boats,'" she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; I feel as if they were +boats," declared Alma, stoutly. "I'm sure I don't +think anybody on the ocean could be any more glad +to see a sail than I should be to see one of these, +if I were a lonely traveler on this sea of grass!"</p> + +<p>"But where are they going?" questioned Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I don't know—nor do they, probably," rejoined +Genevieve, with a quizzical smile. "They're +presumably emigrants hunting up cheap land for a +new home. There used to be lots of them, Father +says; but there aren't so many now. See—they're +going to cross our way just ahead of us. We'll get +a splendid view of them."</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer came the curiously clumsy, +yet curiously airy-looking wagons. Sallow-faced +women looked out mournfully, and tow-headed +children peeped from every vantage point. Brawny, +but weary-looking men stalked beside their teams.</p> + +<p>"Look at the men—<i>walking!</i>" cried Elsie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're 'bull-whackers,'" nodded Genevieve, +mischievously.</p> + +<p>"Bull-whackers!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, because their teams happen to be oxen; +if they were mules, now, they'd be 'mule-skinners.'"</p> + +<p>"Is that what you are, then?" asked Elsie, with +a demureness that rivaled Tilly's best efforts. +"You're driving mules, you know."</p> + +<p>"Well, you better not call me that," laughed +Genevieve. "See, they've stopped to speak to +Father. I reckon we'll have to stop, too."</p> + +<p>"I 'reckon' we shall," mimicked Elsie, good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"They've got all their household goods and gods +in those wagons," said Genevieve, musingly. "I +can see a tin coffeepot hanging straight over one +woman's head."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think they had anything but children," +laughed Alma, as from every wagon there +tumbled a scrambling, squirming mass of barefoot +legs, thin brown arms, and touseled hair above wide, +questioning eyes.</p> + +<p>Long minutes later, from the carriage, Cordelia +Wilson followed with dreamy eyes the slow-receding +wagons, now again upon their way.</p> + +<p>"I feel just like 'ships that pass in the night,'" +she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I don't. I feel just like supper," whispered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +Tilly. Then she laughed at the frightened look +Cordelia flung at Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>On and on through the shimmering heat, under +the cloudless sky, trailed the carriage and the ranch +wagons. Mr. Tim had long ago galloped out of +sight.</p> + +<p>It was when they were within five miles of the +ranch that Cordelia, looking far ahead, saw against +the horizon a rapidly growing black speck. For +some time she watched it in silence; then, suddenly, +she became aware that, large as was the speck now, +it had broken into other specks—bobbing, shifting +specks that promptly became not specks at all, but +men on horseback.</p> + +<p>Spasmodically she clutched Mr. Hartley's arm.</p> + +<p>"What—are—those?" she questioned, with +dry lips.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley gave an indifferent glance ahead.</p> + +<p>"Cowboys, I should say," he answered.</p> + +<p>Cordelia caught her breath. At that moment a +shot rang out, then another, and another.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley looked up now, sharply, a little +angrily. The indifference was quite gone from his +face.</p> + +<p>It was then that Genevieve's voice came clear and +strong from the wagon behind.</p> + +<p>"It's the boys, Father—our boys!" she called. +"I know it's the boys. I told them I'd promised +the girls a welcome, and they're giving it to us!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By George! it is our boys," breathed Mr. Hartley. +And the scowl on his face gave way to a +broad smile.</p> + +<p>"Is it really all—fun?" quavered Cordelia, +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Every bit," Mr. Hartley assured her. And +then—though still breathlessly—Cordelia gave +herself up to the excitement of the moment.</p> + +<p>They were all about them soon—those lithe, +supple figures, swaying lightly, or sitting superbly +erect in their saddles. From the top of their broad-brimmed +hats to the tips of their high-heeled cowboy +boots they were a wonder and a joy to the +amazed eyes of Cordelia. With stirrups so long +the chains clanked musically, they galloped back and +forth, shouting, laughing, and shooting wildly into +the air. With their chaparejos, or leather overalls, +their big revolvers, their spurs, their bright silk +handkerchiefs knotted loosely around their necks +over the open collar of their flannel shirts, they made +a brave show, indeed. Nor was the least of the +wonders about them the graceful swirls of loosely-coiled +lariats hanging from the horns of their saddles.</p> + +<p>After all, it lasted only a minute before the revolvers +were thrust into the waiting holsters, and +before the men, bareheaded, were making a sweeping +bow from their saddles.</p> + +<p>It was Genevieve who led the clapping.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, boys, thank you! That was fine—just +fine!" she crowed. "Now I reckon Cordelia thinks +she has seen a cowboy all right!"</p> + +<p>And Cordelia did. A little white, but bravely +smiling, she was sitting erect, apparently serene. +And only Mr. Hartley knew that one of her hands +was clutched about his arm in a grasp that actually +hurt.</p> + +<p>"They did that—all that shooting and yelling—just +for a joke, then?" she asked Mr. Hartley, a +little later.</p> + +<p>"Only that. They were giving you a welcome +to the Six Star Ranch."</p> + +<p>"Then they don't act like that all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly!" laughed the man. "I reckon they +wouldn't get much work done if they did."</p> + +<p>Cordelia drew a relieved sigh. Her eyes, a little +less fearful, rested on the erect figure of the nearest +cowboy, just to the right of the carriage.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," she murmured. "I'll tell Mrs. +Miller. She thought they did, you know—yell always +without just and due provocation, and shoot +at sight."</p> + +<p>The man's lips twitched; but the next moment +they grew a bit stern at the corners.</p> + +<p>"That's exactly it, Miss Cordelia—exactly the +idea that some people have of the boys, and I'll +grant that when they—they drink too much +whiskey, they aren't exactly what you might call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +peaceable, desirable companions—though three-fourths +of their antics then are caused by reckless +high spirits rather than by real ugliness—with exceptions, +of course. But when sober they are quiet, +straightforward, generous-hearted good fellows, +hard-working and honest; certainly my boys are."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley hesitated, then went on, still gravely.</p> + +<p>"There's just as much difference in ranches, of +course, Miss Cordelia, as there is in folks; and all +the ranches are changing fast, anyway, nowadays. +Lots of the owners are quitting living on them at +all. They've gone into the towns to live. On the +Six Star the boys take their meals with the family; +and in many places they don't do that, I know, even +where the owner lives on the ranch. Our boys are +very loyal to us, and very much interested in all +that concerns us. They fairly worship Genevieve, +and have, all the way up."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," murmured Cordelia, again; and +this time there was a look very much like admiration +in the eyes that rested on Long John just +ahead.</p> + +<p>It was some time later that Mr. Hartley said, +half turning around:</p> + +<p>"Look straight ahead, a little to the right, young +ladies, and you'll get a very good view of the Six +Star Ranch."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and you've got a windmill," cried Tilly. +"I can see it against the sky; I know I can!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, we've got a windmill," nodded Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>"I love windmills," exulted Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"So does Genevieve," observed Mr. Hartley, +raising his eyebrows a little.</p> + +<p>Only Cordelia noticed the odd smile he gave as he +spoke, and she did not know what it meant. Later, +however, she remembered it. She was too much +excited now to think of anything but the fact that +the Six Star Ranch was so near.</p> + +<p>Bertha craned her neck to look ahead.</p> + +<p>"Only think, we haven't passed a house, not a +house since we left Bolo," she cried.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley smiled.</p> + +<p>"You see, Miss Bertha, Bolo, eighteen miles +away, is our nearest neighbor; and you'll have to +go even farther than that in any other direction +to strike another neighbor."</p> + +<p>"My stars!" gasped Bertha. "How awful lonesome +it must be, Mr. Hartley."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, you can't be much bothered with +neighbors running in to borrow two eggs and a +little soda, can you?" giggled Tilly.</p> + +<p>"No; that isn't one of the difficulties we have +to deal with," smiled Mr. Hartley; but Bertha +bridled visibly.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, Tilly Mack," she exclaimed in pretended +anger, "I should like to know if you mean +anything special! You see," she added laughingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +to Mr. Hartley, "I happen to live next to Tilly, +myself!"</p> + +<p>From both carriage and wagon, now, came a +babel of eager chatter. There was so much to be +seen on the one hand, so much to be explained on +the other. The buildings and corrals were plainly +visible by this time, and each minute they became +more clearly defined.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that all that belongs to just one +ranch?" demanded Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Sure!" twinkled Mr. Hartley. "You see, if +folks can't borrow of us, we can't borrow of them, +either; so it's rather necessary that we have all the +comforts of home ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you've got them," laughed Tilly, +looking wonderingly about her.</p> + +<p>"I reckon we have," nodded Mr. Hartley, as he +began to point out one and another of the buildings.</p> + +<p>There was the long, low ranch house facing the +wide reach of the prairie. Behind it, and connected +with it by a covered way, were the dining room and +the cook room. Beyond that was the long bunk +house where the men slept, flanked by another building +for the Mexican servants. There were stables, +sheds, a storehouse and saddle-room, and a blacksmith's +shop. Below the house an oblong bit of +fenced ground showed a riot of color—Genevieve's +flower garden. Below that was a vegetable garden. +There was a large corral for the cattle, and a smaller<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +one, high and circular, for the horses. There were +three or four green trees near the house—tall, thin +cottonwoods that had grown up along the slender +streams of waste water from the windmill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE RANCH HOUSE</h3> + + +<p>"And here we are at the Six Star Ranch," cried +Mr. Hartley, as he leaped from the carriage before +the wide-open door of the ranch house. "Well, +Mammy Lindy," he added, as the kindly, wrinkled +old face of a colored woman appeared in the doorway, +"I've corralled the whole bunch and brought +them West with me!"</p> + +<p>A little stiffly the girls got down from their seats—all +but Genevieve. She, in the space of a breath, +seemingly, had leaped to the ground and run up on +to the wide gallery where the negress, with adoring +eyes, awaited her.</p> + +<p>"Laws, chil'e," Tilly, who was nearest, heard a +tenderly crooning voice say, "but I am jes' pow'ful +glad to see ye, honey!"</p> + +<p>"Mammy, you old darling!" cried Genevieve, +giving the rotund, gayly-clad figure a bear-like hug. +"You look just as good as you used to—and my, +my! just see all this new finery to welcome me," she +added, holding off her beaming-faced old nurse at +arms' length. "I reckon you'll think something has +come, Mammy Lindy, when we all get settled," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +added laughingly, as she turned to present the old +woman to Mrs. Kennedy and the girls.</p> + +<p>A little later, Tilly, in the wide, center hallway, +was looking wonderingly about her.</p> + +<p>"Well, Genevieve Hartley, I didn't think you +<i>could</i> have room enough for us all," she declared; +"but I'll give it up. I should think you +might entertain the whole state of Texas in this +house!"</p> + +<p>"We try to, sometimes," laughed Genevieve. +"You know we Texans pride ourselves on always +having room for everybody."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think you did—and, only think, +all on one floor, too!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve did not answer. She was looking +around her with a thoughtful little frown between +her eyebrows as if she saw something she did not +quite understand.</p> + +<p>The girls were standing in the wide center hallway +that ran straight through the house. On one +side, through a wide archway, could be seen a large +living-room with piano, bookshelves, comfortable +chairs, a couch, and a good-sized table. Beyond +that there was a narrow hall with two large rooms +leading from it. From the other side of the center +hall opened another narrow hall at right angles, +from which led the six remaining rooms of the +house.</p> + +<p>"This is more fun than getting settled in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +sleepers," declared Elsie Martin, as Genevieve began +to fly about arranging her guests.</p> + +<p>The boys made quick work of bringing in the +trunks and bags; and then for a brief half-hour +there was quiet while eight pairs of hurried hands +attempted to remove part of the dust of travel and +to unearth fresh blouses and clean linen from long-packed +trunks.</p> + +<p>It was a hungry, merry crowd, a little later, that +trooped through the long covered way leading to +the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Now I know why this house has got so much +room in it," declared Tilly. "We could have room +in the East if we banished our dining-rooms +and kitchens and pantries to the neighbors like +this!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve did not answer. They had reached +the long narrow room with the big table running +lengthwise of it. Only one end of the table was set +with places for eight.</p> + +<p>"Why, where are the boys?" questioned Genevieve.</p> + +<p>Mammy Lindy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Dey ain't here, chil'e."</p> + +<p>"But, Mammy, you are mistaken. They are +here. They came home with us."</p> + +<p>"Yas'm, dey done come home, sure 'nuf, but dey +ain't eatin' now, honey."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again the old woman shook her head. She did +not answer. She turned troubled eyes first on the +two young Mexican maids by the doorway, then on +Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>"Father, do you know what this means?" demanded +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"No, dearie, I must say I don't," frowned Mr. +Hartley.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall find out," avowed the mistress of +the Six Star Ranch. "Mammy Lindy, please seat +my guests, and have the supper served right away. +I'll find Mr. Tim."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy, +gently, "wouldn't it be better if you ate your own +supper first—with your guests?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve shook her head. Her face flushed +painfully.</p> + +<p>"I know, Aunt Julia, of course, what you mean. +You don't think it's civil in me to run off like this. +But it's the boys—something is the matter. They +always eat with us. Why, they may be thinking we +don't <i>want</i> them, Aunt Julia. Please, please excuse +me, everybody," she entreated, as she ran from the +room.</p> + +<p>Halfway to the bunk house Genevieve met the +ranch foreman.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Tim, supper is ready. Didn't you +know?" she called, hurrying toward him. "Where +are the boys?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>An odd expression crossed the man's kindly, +weather-beaten face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're 'round—in spots."</p> + +<p>"Why don't they come to supper?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim's eyebrows went up.</p> + +<p>"Well, as near as I can make out, that's part of +the welcome they're giving you."</p> + +<p>"Welcome!—to stay away from supper!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim laughed.</p> + +<p>"I reckon maybe I'll have to explain," he replied. +"Long John told me they'd got it all fixed up that, +after your fine doings back East, you wouldn't take +to things on the ranch very well. So for two days +the whole bunch has been slicking things up, including +themselves. They hunted up every stiff +hat and b'iled shirt in this part of Texas, I reckon, +for that splurge at Bolo; and Mammy Lindy says +they've been pestering the life out of her, slicking +up the house."</p> + +<p>Genevieve drew in her breath with a little cry.</p> + +<p>"There! That's what was the matter with the +rooms," she ejaculated. "Nothing looked natural—but +some things weren't exactly 'slicked up,' Mr. +Tim. I couldn't turn around without finding a book +at my elbow. There's scarcely one left on the +shelves!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I can explain that," returned the man, +with a twinkle in his eyes. "Reddy said the East +was mighty strong on books and culturing, so I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +s'pose he thought he'd have 'em 'round handy. It's +lucky your father had all them books come out while +you was studying, or else I reckon the boys would +have hit the trail for the nearest book-store and +roped every book in sight."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"But, the supper?" she frowned again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's part of the outfit—and Reddy said +it was 'dinner,' too. He said that he was raised +back East, and that he knew; and that 'twas +more seemly that you ate it without their company."</p> + +<p>"Humph! Well, it isn't, and I sha'n't," settled +Genevieve, emphatically. "Where is Reddy? Go +in to supper," she laughed, "and I'll round up the +boys—I mean, I'll find them," she corrected demurely. +"Miss Jane doesn't like me to say 'round +up,' Mr. Tim."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim smiled, but his eyes grew tender—almost +anxious.</p> + +<p>"I reckon they haven't spoiled you back East, +after all, little girl. You're the same true blue, like +you was, before."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed and colored a little.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am," she declared. "Now I'm +going for the boys."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim laid a detaining hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night; it's late, and it would make no +end of fuss all around. But I'll tell them. They'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +be on hand for breakfast, all right. Now go back +to your own supper, yourself."</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed Genevieve, reluctantly. +"But—to-morrow, remember!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't forgetting—to-morrow," nodded the +man.</p> + +<p>In the dining-room Genevieve was greeted with a +merry clamor, under cover of which she said hurriedly +to her father:</p> + +<p>"It's all right. They'll come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I guess you won't find we've left you much to +eat," gurgled Elsie Martin, her mouth full of fried +chicken.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I shall—in Texas," retorted Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"But I'm so ashamed," apologized Cordelia. "I +don't think we ought to eat so much."</p> + +<p>"I do," disagreed Tilly, "when everything is so +perfectly lovely as this is. They are just the nicest +things! And just guess how many hot biscuits I've +eaten with this delicious plum sauce! Mr. Hartley +says they're wild—the plums, I mean, not the biscuits."</p> + +<p>"And it's all such a surprise, too," interposed +Alma Lane; "milk, and butter, and all."</p> + +<p>Genevieve stared frankly.</p> + +<p>"Surprise!—<i>milk and butter!</i>" she exclaimed. +"Didn't you suppose we had milk and butter?"</p> + +<p>Alma blushed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Genevieve, I—I didn't mean anything, +you know, truly I didn't," she stammered. "It's +only that—that ranches don't usually have them, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Don't usually have them!" frowned Genevieve. +"Alma Lane, what <i>are</i> you talking +about?"</p> + +<p>"Why, we read it, you know, in a book," explained +Cordelia, hastily, coming to the rescue. +"They said in spite of there being so many cows +all around everywhere, there wasn't any butter or +milk, and that the cowboys wouldn't like to be asked +to milk, you know."</p> + +<p>"You read it? Where?" Genevieve's forehead +still wore its frown.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley gave a chuckling laugh.</p> + +<p>"I reckon Genevieve doesn't know much about +such ranches," he observed. "As I was telling you, +Miss Cordelia, coming out this afternoon, there's +just as much difference in ranches as there is in +folks; and ours happens to be the kind where we +like all the comforts of home pretty well. To be +sure, I wouldn't just like to ask Reddy or Long +John to milk, maybe," he added, with a whimsical +smile; "but I don't have to, you see. I've got +Carlos for just such work. He looks after the +vegetable garden, too, and Genevieve's flowers. By +the way, dearie,"—he turned to his daughter—"Tim +says Carlos has been putting in his prettiest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +work on your garden this summer. Be sure you +don't forget to notice it."</p> + +<p>"As if I could help noticing it," returned Genevieve. +She was about to say more when there came +an earnest question from Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hartley, please, what did you call those +two men?"</p> + +<p>"What men?"</p> + +<p>"The ones you—you wouldn't wish to ask to +milk."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the boys? I don't remember—I reckon +'twas Reddy and Long John that I mentioned, +maybe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; that's the one I mean—the John +one. What is his other name, please?"</p> + +<p>"His surname? Why, really, Miss Cordelia, I +reckon I've forgotten what it is. The boys all go +by their first names, mostly, else by a nickname. +Why? Found a long-lost friend?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir. Well, I mean—that is—he may +be lost, but he isn't mine," stammered Cordelia, who +was always very literal.</p> + +<p>"Then don't blush so, Cordy," bantered Tilly, +wickedly, "else we shall think he is yours."</p> + +<p>Cordelia blushed a still deeper pink, but she said +nothing; and in the confusion of leaving the dining-room +she managed to place herself as far from Tilly +as possible. On the back gallery she saw the ranch +foreman. As the others went chattering through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +the hall to the gallery beyond, she lingered +timidly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Nolan, would—would you please tell me +Mr.—Mr. John's other name?"</p> + +<p>"John? Oh, you mean 'Long John,' Miss?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but—'John' what?"</p> + +<p>Tim Nolan frowned.</p> + +<p>"Why, let me see,"—he bit his lip in thought—"'Pierce'—no, +'Proctor.' Yes, that's it—'John +Proctor.'"</p> + +<p>A look of mingled disappointment and relief +crossed Cordelia's face.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Nolan, very much," she faltered, +as she hurried after her companions.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry," she +was thinking. "Of course 'twould have been nice +if he'd been John Sanborn, only I'm afraid Hermit +Joe wouldn't like a cowboy for a son, specially as +there wouldn't be anything for him to do in Sunbridge +at his trade."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy announced soon after supper that +she should take matters in hand very sternly that +night and insist upon an early bedtime hour.</p> + +<p>"It has been a long, hot, fatiguing day," she +said, "but you are all so excited you'd sit up half the +night asking questions and telling stories; so I +shall take advantage of my position as chaperon, +and send you to bed very soon."</p> + +<p>"O dear!" sighed Tilly. "If only it would come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +morning quick! Just think, we've got to wait a +whole night before we can do any of the things +we're dying to do!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind; there are lots of days coming," +laughed Mr. Hartley. "What a fine family of +young folks I have, to be sure," he gloried, looking +around him contentedly.</p> + +<p>They were all about him on the front gallery, in +hammocks and chairs, or sitting on the steps; and +a very attractive group they made, indeed.</p> + +<p>"I think it would help the waiting if Genevieve +would go in and sing to us," suggested Bertha, after +a moment's silence. "It will be so heavenly to sit +out here and listen to it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sing that lovely Mexican 'Swallow Song,'" +coaxed Elsie. "'<i>La Gol—</i>' <i>—Gol</i>-something, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Don't swear, Elsie," reproved Tilly, with becoming +dignity.</p> + +<p>"<i>'La Golondrina'?</i>" laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a dear," sighed Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have that Creole Love Song that you +say Mammy Lindy taught you," breathed Cordelia. +"That would be perfect for such a scene as this."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! I'd rather have one of those tinkly little +tunes where you can hear the banjos and the tambourines," +averred Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! At this rate I don't see how I'm going +to sing at all," laughed Genevieve, "with so many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +conflicting wishes. Anything different anybody +wants?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," declared Mr. Hartley, promptly. "I +want them all."</p> + +<p>"Of course!" cried half a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>"All right!" rejoined Genevieve, laughingly, +springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>And so while everybody watched the stars in the +far-reaching sky, Genevieve, in the living room, +played and sang till the back gallery and the long +covered way at the rear of the house were full of +the moving shadows of soft-stepping Mexican servants +and cowboys. And everywhere there was the +hush of perfect content while from the living room +there floated out the clear, sweet tones, the weird, +dreamy melodies, and the tinkle of the tambourines.</p> + +<p>One by one, an hour later, the lighted windows +in the long, low ranch house became dark. The last +to change was the one behind which sat Cordelia +Wilson in the room she shared with Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Cordelia, why don't you put out that light and +go to bed?" demanded Tilly at last, drowsily. +"Morning will never come at this rate!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Tilly, I'm going to bed in just a minute," +promised Cordelia, as carefully she wrote in the +space opposite Mrs. Miller's name on her list of +"things to do":</p> + +<p>"Cowboys are good, kind gentlemen; but they +are noisy, and some rough-looking."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>Five minutes later, Cordelia, from her little +bed on one side of the room called a soft +"good night" across to Tilly. But Tilly was already +asleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE MISTRESS OF THE SIX STAR RANCH</h3> + + +<p>Breakfast was an early matter at the Six Star +Ranch. It came almost with the sunrise, in fact. +Genevieve had assured her guests, on the night of +their arrival, however, that their breakfast might +be hours later—that it might, indeed, be at any +hour they pleased. But on this first morning at the +ranch, there was not one guest that did not promptly +respond to the breakfast-bell except Mrs. Kennedy. +The stir of life out of doors had proved an effectual +rising-bell for all; and it was anything but a sleepy-looking +crowd of young people that tripped into the +dining-room to find the boys already waiting for +them—a little quiet and shy, to be sure, but very +red and shiny-looking as to face and hands, speaking +loudly of a vigorous use of soap and water.</p> + +<p>Before the meal was half over, Mrs. Kennedy +came in, only to meet a chorus of remonstrances +that she should have disturbed herself so early.</p> + +<p>Genevieve, however, assumed a look of mock +severity.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia," she began reprovingly in so perfect +an imitation of Miss Jane Chick's severest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +manner that Mrs. Kennedy's lips twitched; "didn't +you hear the rising-bell, my dear? How often must +I ask you not to be late to your meals?"</p> + +<p>For one brief moment there was a dazed hush +about the table; then, at sight of Cordelia's horrified +face, Genevieve lost her self-control and giggled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that was such a good chance," she +chuckled. "Please, Aunt Julia, I just couldn't help +it. I had to!"</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it," smiled back Mrs. Kennedy; +and at the meaning emphasis in her voice there was +a general laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, what shall we do first?" demanded Tilly, +when breakfast was over.</p> + +<p>Genevieve put her finger to her lips.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, now. Oh, I know! Let's go out +and see if they've driven in the saddle band yet; +then we'll watch the boys rope them and start to +work."</p> + +<p>"What's a saddle band?—sounds like a girth," +frowned Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Humph! I reckon it isn't one, all the same," +laughed Genevieve. "It's the horses the boys ride. +Each one has his own string, you know."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know," retorted Tilly, aggrievedly. +"And you needn't use all those funny words—'string' +and 'saddle band' and 'rope them'—without +explaining them, either, Genevieve Hartley.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +You've been talking like that ever since we came. +Just as if we knew what all that meant!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed again.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't, of course," she admitted, "any +more than I understood some of your terms back +East. But come; let's go out and watch the boys. +One of the sheds has a lovely low, flat roof, and we +can see right over into the horse corral from there. +It's easy; there's a ladder. Come on!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what a lot of horses!" cried Tilly, a moment +later, as they stepped out of doors. "Do they +ride all those?"</p> + +<p>"Not this morning," laughed Genevieve. "You +see, each man has his own string of horses, and he +picks out some one of the bunch, and lets the rest +go. That's Reddy, now, driving them into the corral. +The other boys will be here pretty quick now, +and the fun will begin. You'll see!"</p> + +<p>The horse corral was high and circular, and there +was a fine view of it from the shed roof. A snubbing +post was in the middle of the corral, and a +wing was built out at one side from the entrance +gate, so that the horses could be driven in more +easily; yet Reddy quite had his hands full as it was. +At last they were all in, and a merry time they were +having of it, racing in a circle about the enclosure, +heads up, and tails and manes flying.</p> + +<p>"Regular merry-go-round, isn't it?" giggled +Tilly. But Cordelia clutched Genevieve's arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Genevieve, look—they've got ropes! Genevieve, +what <i>are</i> they going to do?" she gasped, +her eyes on the boys who were running from +all directions now, toward the corral. "Why, +Genevieve, they're going <i>in</i> there, with all those +horses!"</p> + +<p>"I reckon they are," rejoined the mistress of the +Six Star Ranch. "Now watch, and you'll see. +There!—see there?—in the middle by that post! +Each man will pick out one of his own horses and +rope him; then he'll lead him out and saddle him, +and the deed's done."</p> + +<p>"I guess that's easier to say than to do," observed +Bertha, dryly. "I notice there aren't any +of those horses just hanging 'round waiting to be +caught!"</p> + +<p>"No, there aren't, to-day," laughed Genevieve; +"though some of the horses will do just that, at +times—specially Long John's. They're pretty +lively now, however, and it <i>does</i> take some skill to +make a nice job of it when they're jamming and +jostling like that. But the boys are equal to it. +We've got some splendid ropers!" This time there +was a note of very evident pride in the voice of the +mistress of the Six Star Ranch.</p> + +<p>It was a brief but exciting time that followed, +filled, as it was, with the shouts of the boys—the +jeers at some failure, the cheers at some success—the +thud of the horses' hoofs, the swirl of the skillfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +flung ropes. It was almost as exciting when +the boys, their horses once caught, led out, and saddled, +rode off for their morning's work. To Cordelia, +especially, it was an experience never to be +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Going to turn cowboy, Miss Cordelia?" asked +Mr. Hartley, with a smile, as he met the girl coming +into the house a little later. Mr. Hartley, in +his broad-brimmed hat, and his gray tweed trousers +tucked into his high boots, looked the picture of the +prosperous ranchman at home.</p> + +<p>Cordelia showed a distinctly shocked face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Don't think you could learn to swing the rope—eh?" +he teased.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, no!"</p> + +<p>A half-proud, wholly-gratified smile crossed the +man's face.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as easy as it looks to be," he said. +"Once in a while we get a tenderfoot out here, +though, who thinks he's going to learn it all in a +minute—or, rather, do it without any learning. +But to be a good roper, one has to give it long, hard +practice. The best of 'em begin young. Reddy, the +crack roper in my outfit, tells me he began with his +mother's clothes-line at the age of four years, with +his rocking-horse for a victim. It seems there was +a picture in one of his books of a cowboy roping a +pony, and—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley stopped, as if listening. From the +rear of the house had sounded the creak of the +windmill crank. The man turned, entered the hall, +and crossed to the window. Then he shook his +head with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid Genevieve is up to her old tricks," +he said. "She's stopping the windmill so she can +climb to the top of the tower, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve!—at the top of that tower!" exclaimed +Cordelia.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley's lips twitched.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That used to be a daily stunt of hers, and—I +let her," added the man, a little doggedly. "It +made her well and strong, anyhow, and helped to +develop her muscle. You see, we—we don't have +gymnasiums on the ranch," he concluded whimsically, +as they stepped together out on to the back +gallery.</p> + +<p>A babel of gleeful shouts and laughter greeted +their ears. A moment later Mr. Hartley and Cordelia +came in sight of the windmill. At its base +four chattering, shrieking girls were laughing and +clapping their hands. Above their heads, Genevieve, +in a dark blue gymnasium suit, was swinging +herself gracefully from cross-piece to cross-piece in +the tower.</p> + +<p>"You see," smiled Mr. Hartley; but he was interrupted +by a shocked, frightened voice behind +him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Genevieve, my dear!" gasped Mrs. Kennedy, +hurrying forward.</p> + +<p>Genevieve did not hear, apparently. To the girls +she waved a free hand, joyously. She was almost +at the top.</p> + +<p>"It's fine—mighty fine up here," she caroled. +"I can see 'way, 'way over the prairie!"</p> + +<p>"Genevieve! Genevieve Hartley, come down this +instant," commanded Mrs. Kennedy. Then her +voice shook, and grew piteously frightened, as she +stammered: "No, no—don't come down, dear! +Genevieve, how <i>can</i> you come down?" Mrs. Kennedy +was wringing her hands now.</p> + +<p>This time Genevieve heard.</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Julia, what is it? What is the matter?" +The girl's voice expressed only concerned +surprise.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" echoed Mrs. Kennedy, +faintly. "Genevieve, how can you come +down?"</p> + +<p>"Come down? Why, that's easy! But I don't +want to come down."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy's lips grew stern.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve," she said, with an obvious effort to +speak quietly; "if you can come down, I desire you +to do so at once."</p> + +<p>Genevieve came down. Her eyes flashed a little, +and her cheeks were redder than usual. She did not +once glance toward the girls, clustered in a silent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +frightened little group. She did not appear to notice +even her father, standing by. She went straight +to Mrs. Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"I've come down, Aunt Julia."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy had been seriously disturbed, and +genuinely frightened. To her, Genevieve's climb +to the top of the windmill tower was very dangerous, +as well as very unladylike. Yet it was the +fright, even more than the displeasure that made +her voice sound so cold now in her effort to steady +it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Genevieve. Please see that there +is no occasion for you to <i>come down</i> again," she said +meaningly. Then she turned and went into the +house.</p> + +<p>Just how it happened, Genevieve did not know, +but almost at once she found herself alone with her +father on the back gallery. The girls had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was very angry now.</p> + +<p>"Father, it wasn't fair, to speak like that," she +choked, "before the girls and you, when I hadn't +done a thing—not a thing! Why, it—it was just +like Miss Jane! I never knew Aunt Julia to be like +that."</p> + +<p>For a moment her father was silent. His face +wore a thoughtful frown.</p> + +<p>"I know it, dearie," he said at last. "But I don't +think Mrs. Kennedy quite realized, quite understood—how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +<i>you'd</i> feel. She didn't think it just +right for you to be there."</p> + +<p>"But I was in my gym suit, Father. I skipped in +and put it on purposely, while the others were doing +something else; then I climbed the tower. I'd +planned 'way ahead how I'd surprise them."</p> + +<p>The man hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I know, dearie," he nodded, after a moment; +"but I reckon it was just a little too much of a +surprise for Mrs. Kennedy. You know she isn't +used to the West; and—do Boston young ladies +climb windmill towers?"</p> + +<p>In spite of her anger, Genevieve laughed. The +mention of Boston had put her in mind of some +Boston friends of Mrs. Kennedy's, whom she knew. +She had a sudden vision of what Mr. and Mrs. +Thomas Butterfield's faces would have been, had +their stern, sixty-year-old eyes seen what Mrs. +Kennedy saw.</p> + +<p>"I reckon, too," went on Mr. Hartley, with a +sigh, "that I have sort of spoiled you, letting you +have your own way. And maybe Mammy Lindy +and I, in our anxiety that you should be well and +strong, and sit the saddle like a Texas daughter +should, haven't taught you always just the dainty +little lady ways—that you ought to have been +taught."</p> + +<p>"You've taught me everything—everything +good and lovely," protested the girl, hotly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>He shook his head. A far-away look came into +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I haven't, dearie—and that's why I sent you +East."</p> + +<p>Genevieve flushed.</p> + +<p>"But I didn't want to go East, in the first place," +she stormed. "I wanted to stay here with you. +Besides, Aunt Julia isn't really any relation,—nor +Miss Jane, either. They haven't any right to—to +speak to me like that."</p> + +<p>A dull red stole to John Hartley's cheek.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, dearie," he demurred, with a shake +of the head. "You mustn't forget how good they've +been to you. Besides—they have got the right. I +gave it to them. I told them to make you like +themselves."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Genevieve's eyes were +moodily fixed on the floor. Her father gave her a +swift glance, then went on, softly:</p> + +<p>"I suspect, too, maybe we're both forgetting, +dearie. After all, Mrs. Kennedy did it every bit +through—love. She was frightened. She was so +scared she just shook, dearie."</p> + +<p>"She—was?" Genevieve's voice was amazed.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I reckon that's more than half why she +spoke so stern, and why she's in her room crying +this minute—as I'll warrant she is. I saw her eyes, +and I saw how her hands shook. And I saw it was +all she could do to keep from falling right on your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +neck—because she had you back safe and sound. +Maybe you didn't see that, dearie."</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"You see, their <i>ways</i> back East, and ours, aren't +alike," resumed the man, after a time; "but I reckon +their—<i>love</i> is."</p> + +<p>Genevieve drew a long breath. Her brown eyes +were not clear.</p> + +<p>"I reckon maybe I'll go and find—Aunt Julia," +she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>The next moment her father sat alone on the back +gallery.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>REDDY AND THE BRONCHO</h3> + + +<p>There was no lack of interesting things to do +that first day at the ranch. There was one half-hour, +to be sure, when five of the Happy Hexagons +sat a little quietly on the front gallery and tried to +talk as if there were no such thing as a windmill, +and no such person as a girl who could climb to the +top of it; but after Genevieve and Mrs. Kennedy, +arm in arm, came through the front door—with eyes +indeed, a little misty, but with lips cheerfully +smiling—every vestige of constraint fled. Genevieve, +once more in her pretty linen frock, was again +the alert little hostess, and very soon they were all +off to inspect the flower garden, the vegetable garden, +the cow corral, the sheds, the stables, and the +blacksmith's shop, not forgetting Teresa, the cook, +who was making tamales in the kitchen for them, +nor Pepito, Genevieve's own horse that she rode +before she went East.</p> + +<p>"And we'll have the boys pick out some horses +for you, too," cried Genevieve, smoothing Pepito's +sleek coat in response to his welcoming whinny of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +delight. "I'm sure they can find something all +right for us."</p> + +<p>Tilly's eyes brightened, so, too, did Bertha's; +but Cordelia spoke hastily, her eyes bent a bit distrustfully +on the spirited little horse Genevieve was +petting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I don't believe they'll have time to hunt +up horses for us, Genevieve. Really, I don't think +we ought to ask them to."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we won't, then—for <i>you</i>," teased Tilly, +saucily. "We'll just let them take time for ours."</p> + +<p>It is a question, however, if that afternoon, even +Tilly wanted to ride; for, according to Cordelia's +notes that night in "Things to do," they saw a +broncho "bursted."</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Tim who had said at the dinner table +that noon:</p> + +<p>"If you young people happen to be on hand, say +at about four o'clock, you'll see something doing. +Reddy's got a horse or two he's going to put +through their paces—and one of 'em's never been +saddled."</p> + +<p>Privately, to Mr. Hartley, Mrs. Kennedy objected +a little.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure, Mr. Hartley, the girls ought to +witness such a sight?" she asked uneasily. "Of +course I don't want to be too strict in my demands," +she went on with a little twinkle in her eyes that +Mr. Hartley thoroughly understood. "I realize the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +West isn't the East. But, will this be—all +right?"</p> + +<p>"I think it will—even in your judgment," he +assured her. "It's no professional broncho-buster +that they'll see to-day. I seldom hire them, anyway, +as I prefer to have our own men break in the +horses—specially as we're lucky enough to have +three or four mighty skillful ones right in our own +outfit. There'll be nothing brutal or rough to-day, +Mrs. Kennedy. Only one beast is entirely wild, and +he's not really vicious, Reddy says. Genevieve tells +me the girls have heard a lot about broncho-busting, +and that they're wild to see it. They wouldn't think +they'd been to Texas, I'm afraid, if they didn't see +something of the sort."</p> + +<p>"Very well," agreed Mrs. Kennedy, with visible +reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," went on Mr. Hartley, his eyes +twinkling, "you mustn't expect that they'll see exactly +a pony parade drawing baby carriages down +Beacon Street; but they will see some of the best +horsemanship that the state of Texas can show. I +take it you never saw a little beast whose chief aim +in life was to get clear of his rider—eh, Mrs. Kennedy?"</p> + +<p>"No, I never did," shuddered the lady; "and I'm +not sure that I'd want to," she finished decisively, +as she turned away.</p> + +<p>The new horse proved to be a fiery little bay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +mustang, and the fight began from the first moment +that the noose settled about his untamed little neck. +As Tilly told of the affair in the Chronicles of the +Hexagon Club, it was like this:</p> + +<p>"We saw a broncho busted this afternoon. +Reddy busted it, and he was splendid. Mercy! I +shall never think anything my old Beauty does is +bad again. Beauty is a snail and a saint beside this +jumping, plunging, squealing creature that never by +any chance was on his feet properly—except when +he came down hard on all four of them at once with +his back humped right up in the middle in a perfectly +frightful fashion—and I suppose that wasn't +'properly.' Anyhow, I shouldn't have thought it +was, if I had had to try to sit on that hump!</p> + +<p>"But that wasn't the only thing that he did. +Dear me, no! He danced, and rolled, and seesawed +up and down—'pitching,' Mr. Hartley called it. +And I'm sure it looked like it. First he'd try standing +on his two fore feet, then he'd give them a rest, +and take the other two. And sometimes he couldn't +seem to make up his mind which he wanted to use, +or which way he wanted to turn, and he'd change +about right up in the air so he'd come down facing +the other way. My, he was the most uncertain +creature!</p> + +<p>"It didn't seem to make a mite of difference +where the horse was, or what he did with his feet, +though. Reddy was right there every time, and all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +<i>ready</i>, too. (Yes, I know a pun is the lowest order +of wit. But I don't care. I couldn't help it, anyway—it +was such a <i>ready</i> one!) There he sat, so +loose and easy, too, with his quirt (that's a whip), +and it looked sometimes just as if he wasn't half +trying—that he didn't need to. But I'm sure he +was trying. Anyhow, I know I couldn't have stayed +on that horse five minutes; and I don't believe even +Genevieve could. (I said that to Mr. Tim Nolan, +and he laughed so hard I thought I'd put it in here, +and let somebody else laugh.)</p> + +<p>"Of course every one of us was awfully excited, +and the boys kept shouting and cheering, and yelling +'Stay with him!' and telling him not to 'go to +leather'—whatever that may mean! And Reddy +did stay. He stayed till the little horse got tired +out; then he got off, and led the horse away, and +some of the other boys went through a good deal +the same sort of thing with other horses, only these +had all been partly broken before, they told us. But, +mercy, they were bad enough, anyhow, I thought, +to have been brand-new. Reddy did another one, +too, and this time he put silver half-dollars under +his feet in the stirrups: And when the little beast—the +horse, I mean, not Reddy—got through his +antics, there the half-dollars were, still there in the +same old place. How the boys did yell and cheer +then!</p> + +<p>"After that, they all just 'showed off' for us,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +throwing their ropes over anything and everything, +and playing like a crowd of little boys on a picnic, +only Mr. Hartley said they were doing some +'mighty fine roping' with it all. Their ropes are +mostly about forty feet long, and it looked as if they +just slung them any old way; but I know they don't, +for afterward, just before we went in to supper, +Reddy let me take his rope, and I tried to throw +it. I aimed for a post a little way ahead of me, +but I got Pedro, the Mexican cowboy, behind +me, right 'in the neck,' as Mr. Tim said. Pedro +grinned, and of course everybody else laughed +horribly.</p> + +<p>"And thus endeth the account of how the +bronchos were busted. (P.S. I hope whoever +reads the above will own up that for once Tilly +Mack got some sense into her part. So there!) I +forgot to say we took a nap after dinner. Everybody +does here. 'Siestas' they call them, Genevieve +says."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was after supper that Genevieve said:</p> + +<p>"Now let's go out on to the front gallery and +watch the sunset. Supper was too late last night +for us to see much of it, but to-night it will be fine—and +you've no idea what a sunset really can be +until you've seen it on the prairie!"</p> + +<p>Tilly pursed her lips.</p> + +<p>"There, Genevieve Hartley, there's another of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +those mysterious words of yours; and it isn't the +first time I've heard it here, either."</p> + +<p>"What word?"</p> + +<p>"'Gallery.' What is a gallery? I'm sure I don't +see what there can be about a one-story house to be +called a 'gallery'!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed.</p> + +<p>"You call them 'verandas' or 'piazzas,' back +East, Tilly. We call them 'galleries' in Texas."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that it?" frowned Tilly. "But you +never called Sunbridge piazzas that."</p> + +<p>Genevieve shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No; it's only when I get back here that the +old names come back to me so naturally. Besides—when +I was East, I very soon found out what +you called them; so I called them that, too."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," retorted Tilly, saucily, "I've +got my opinion of folks that will call a one-story +piazza a 'gallery.' I should just like to show them +what we call a 'gallery' at home—say, the top +one in the Boston Theater, you know, where it runs +'way back."</p> + +<p>Genevieve only laughed good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>On the front gallery all settled themselves comfortably +to watch the sunset. Already the sun was +low in the west, a huge ball of fire just ready to +drop into the sea of prairie grass.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem nearly so hot here as I thought +it would," observed Bertha, after a time. "Oh, it's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +been warm to-day, of course—part of the time +awfully warm," she added hastily. "But I've been +just as hot in New Hampshire."</p> + +<p>"We think we've got a mighty fine climate," +spoke up Mr. Hartley. "Now, last year, you in the +East, had heaps of prostrations from the heat. +Texas had just three."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that was owing to the Northers," +murmured Cordelia, interestedly. "Now, feel it!" +She put up her hand. "There's a breeze, now. Is +that a Norther?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley coughed suddenly. Genevieve +stared.</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Northers?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Why, I—I read about them. It said you—you +had them."</p> + +<p>Genevieve broke into a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>"I should think, by the way you put it, that they +were the measles or the whooping cough! We do +have them, Cordelia—in the winter, specially, but +not so often in July. Besides, they don't feel much +like this little breeze—as you'd soon find out, if +you happened to be in one."</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence; then Genevieve +spoke again.</p> + +<p>"See here, where'd you find out all these things +about Texas—that we didn't have butter, and did +have Northers?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before Cordelia could answer, Tilly interposed +with a chuckling laugh:</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Genevieve, just where they found +out," she cut in, utterly ignoring her own share of +the "they." "Now, listen! How do you suppose +they spent all the time you were in New Jersey? +I'll tell you. They were digging up Texas every +single minute; and they dug, and dug, and dug, +until there wasn't a mean annual temperature, or a +mean anything else that they didn't drag from its +hiding-place and hold up triumphantly, and shout: +'Behold, this is Texas!'"</p> + +<p>"Girls—you didn't!" cried Genevieve, choking +with laughter.</p> + +<p>"They did!" affirmed Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>we</i> did—including Tilly," declared Cordelia, +with unexpected spirit.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed this time, but it was Alma, +the peacemaker, who spoke next.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look—look at the sun!" she exclaimed. +"Aren't those rose-pink clouds gorgeous?"</p> + +<p>"My, wouldn't they make a lovely dress?" +sighed Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and see the golden pathway the sun has +made, straight down to the prairie," cried Bertha +Brown.</p> + +<p>"Oh, look, look, Mr. Hartley! Is that grass on +fire?" gasped Cordelia.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley shook his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No—I hope not."</p> + +<p>"But you do have prairie fires?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes; but not so often nowadays—though +I've seen some bad ones, in my time."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. All eyes were turned +toward the west. Above, a riot of rose and gold +and purple flamed across the sky. Below, more +softly, the colors seemed almost repeated in the +waving, shifting, changing expanse of fairylike loveliness +that the prairie had become.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how beautiful it all is, and how I do love +it," breathed Genevieve, after a time, as if to herself.</p> + +<p>Gradually the gorgeous rose and gold and purple +changed, softened, and faded quite away. The +slender crescent of the moon appeared, and one by +one the stars showed in the darkening sky.</p> + +<p>"It's all so quiet, so wonderfully quiet," sighed +Cordelia; then, abruptly, she cried: "Why, what's +that?"</p> + +<p>There had sounded a far-away shout, then another, +nearer. On the breeze was borne the muffled +tread of hundreds of hoofs. A dog began to bark +lustily.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Later, they swept into view—a troop of cowboys, +and a thronging, jostling mass of cattle.</p> + +<p>"On the way to a round-up, probably," explained +Mr. Hartley, as he rose to his feet and went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +to meet the foreman, who was coming toward the +house.</p> + +<p>Still later, he explained more fully.</p> + +<p>"They've put them in our pens for the night. +The boys have gone into camp a mile or so away."</p> + +<p>Genevieve shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I hate round-ups," she cried passionately.</p> + +<p>"What are round-ups?" asked Bertha Brown.</p> + +<p>"Where they brand the cattle," answered Genevieve, +quickly, but in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Cordelia, who was near her, shuddered. She +seemed now to see before her eyes that seething +mass of heads and horns, sweeping on and on unceasingly.</p> + +<p>Cordelia had two dreams that night. She wondered, +afterward, which was the worse. She +dreamed, first, that an endless stream of cattle +climbed the windmill tower and jumped clear to the +edge of the prairie, where the sun went down. She +dreamed, secondly, that she was very hungry, and +that twenty feet away stood a table laden with hot +biscuits and fried chicken; but that the only way +she could obtain any food was to "rope it" with +Reddy's lariat. At the time of waking up she had +not obtained so much as one biscuit or a chicken +wing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>CORDELIA GOES TO CHURCH</h3> + + +<p>"We're going to have church to-morrow," Genevieve +had announced on the first Saturday night at +the ranch. "A minister is coming from Bolo, and +he holds the service out of doors. Everybody on +the place comes, and we sing, and it's lovely!"</p> + +<p>As it happened, Cordelia had not been present +when Genevieve made this announcement. It was +left for Tilly, therefore, to tell her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cordelia, I forgot. We're going to have +church to-morrow," she said that night, as she was +brushing her hair in their room.</p> + +<p>Cordelia, who was taking off her shoes, looked +up delightedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tilly—church? We're going to church?"</p> + +<p>Tilly laughed; then an odd little twist came to +her mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Cordelia; we're—going to church," she +answered.</p> + +<p>"What time?"</p> + +<p>"Eleven o'clock, Genevieve said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, won't that be fun—I mean, I'm very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +glad," corrected Cordelia, hastily, a confused red in +her cheeks.</p> + +<p>In Cordelia's bed that night, Cordelia thought +happily:</p> + +<p>"Maybe now I can get some new ideas for Uncle +Thomas to put in his services. They do everything +so differently here in the West, and Uncle's audiences +get so small sometimes, specially Sunday evenings."</p> + +<p>In Tilly's bed, Tilly, a little guilty as to conscience, +was trying to excuse herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow," she was arguing mentally, +"Genevieve said 'everybody comes,' and if they +'come' they must 'go'; so of course we're 'going' +to church."</p> + +<p>Not until Cordelia was dropping off to sleep did +something occur to her. She sat up, then, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Tilly," she called softly, "where is that church? +Do we have to ride eighteen miles to Bolo?"</p> + +<p>Tilly did not answer. She was asleep, decided +Cordelia—it was dark, and Cordelia could not see +the pillow Tilly was stuffing into her mouth.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Just after breakfast Sunday morning, Elsie Martin +said a low word in Genevieve's ear, and drew +her out of earshot of the others. Her eyes were +anxious.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, do you have to dress up much for +this kind of—of church?" she questioned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not a bit, dear. Don't worry. Anything you +have will be lovely."</p> + +<p>"I know; but—well, you see, it's just this," she +quavered. "Aunt Kate fixed up the girls' green +chambray for me just before we came. I saw then +it didn't look just right, but we were in such an +awful hurry there wasn't time to do anything; and +I was so excited, anyway, that I didn't seem to +mind, much. But out here, in the bright light, it +looks awfully!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! That's all your own notion, Elsie," +rejoined Genevieve, comfortingly. "I'm sure it +looks lovely. Anyhow, it wouldn't matter if it +didn't—here."</p> + +<p>Elsie shook her head despondently.</p> + +<p>"But you don't understand," she said. "You +know the twins dress alike, and this was their green +chambray. Aunt Kate always likes to use their +things, she says, because there's always double quantity; +but this time it didn't work so well. You see, +Cora was sick a lot last summer, when they had this +dress, and she didn't wear hers half so much as +Clara did, so hers wasn't faded hardly any. It was +an awful funny color to begin with; but it's worse +now, with part of it one shade, and part another. +You see, one sleeve's made of Cora's, and one of +Clara's; and the front breadth is Cora's and the +back is Clara's. Of course Aunt Kate cut it out +where she could do it best, and didn't think but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +what they were alike; but you don't know what a +funny-looking thing that dress is! I—I don't +know whether to turn Clara toward folks, or Cora," +she finished with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>Genevieve heard the laugh—but she saw that it +came through trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"Well, I just wouldn't fret," she declared, with +an affectionate little hug. "If you don't want to +wear it, wear something else. What a nuisance +clothes are, anyhow! I've always said I wished we +didn't have to change our dress every time we +turned around!"</p> + +<p>Elsie's eyes became wistful. She shook her head +sadly.</p> + +<p>"You don't know anything about it, Genevieve. +Your clothes <i>haven't</i> been a nuisance to you—even +if you think they have. You see, you don't realize +how nice it is to have such a lot of pretty things—and +all new," she sighed as she turned away.</p> + +<p>When Genevieve went to her room to dress for +"church" that morning, she looked a little thoughtfully +at the array of pretty frocks hanging in her +closet.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could give some to Elsie," she sighed; +"but Elsie isn't poor, of course, and I suppose +she—she wouldn't take them. But I suspect I don't +half appreciate them myself—just as Elsie said," +she finished, as she took down a fresh, white linen.</p> + +<p>At quarter before eleven Cordelia Wilson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +knocked at Genevieve's door. Genevieve opened it +to find Cordelia in a neat jacket suit, hat on, and +gloves in hand.</p> + +<p>"Am I all right, Genevieve?" she asked. "I +wasn't quite sure just what to wear."</p> + +<p>"Why, y-yes—only you don't need the hat, nor +the gloves, dear; and I shouldn't think you'd want +that coat, it's so warm!"</p> + +<p>"Not want a hat, or gloves," burst out Cordelia, +looking distinctly shocked. "Why, Genevieve Hartley! +I know you do very strange things here in +the West, but I did suppose you—you dressed +properly to go to church!"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't really church, Cordelia," smiled +Genevieve. "I only call it so, you know. And of +course we don't 'go' at all—only as far as the +back gallery."</p> + +<p>Cordelia stared, frowningly.</p> + +<p>"You mean you don't drive off—anywhere?" +she demanded. "That you have a service right +here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I thought you knew."</p> + +<p>"But Tilly said—why, I don't know what she +did say, exactly, but she let me think we were going +to drive off somewhere. And look at me—rigged +out like this! You know how she'll tease me!" +There were almost tears in Cordelia's sensitive eyes.</p> + +<p>"Has she seen you—in this?"</p> + +<p>"No; but she will when I go back. I saw her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +whisk through the hall to our room just as I crossed +through to come in here."</p> + +<p>"Then we won't let her see you," chuckled Genevieve. +"Here, let's have your hat and gloves and +coat. I'll hide them in my closet. You can get +them later when Tilly isn't around. Now run back +and put a serene face on it. Just don't let her suspect +you ever thought of your hat and gloves."</p> + +<p>"But, do you think I ought to do—that? Won't +it be—deceit?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear, it won't," declared Genevieve, emphatically; +"not any sort of deceit that's any harm. +It will just be depriving Miss Tilly of the naughty +fun she expected to have with you. You <i>know</i> how +Tilly loves to tease folks. Well, she'll just find the +tables turned, this time. Now run back quick, or +she'll suspect things!" And, a little doubtfully, +Cordelia went.</p> + +<p>As she had expected, she found Tilly in their +room.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you get ready for church, Cordy?" +demanded Tilly, promptly.</p> + +<p>"I am ready. I dressed early, before you came +in," returned Cordelia, trying to speak very unconcernedly. +"Why? Don't you think this will do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, of course. You look very nice," murmured +Tilly, a little hastily, sending a furtive glance +into Cordelia's face. There was nothing, apparently, +about Cordelia to indicate that anything unexpected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +had occurred, or was about to occur; and she herself +could not, of course, ask why no preparations +for an eighteen-mile journey were being made, specially +when she had pretended to be asleep the night +before when Cordelia asked her question about that +same journey. "You look very nice, I'm sure," +murmured Tilly, again. And Cordelia, hearing the +vague disappointment in Tilly's voice, was filled +with joy—that yet carried a pang of remorse.</p> + +<p>It was a little later, just as Tilly was leaving the +room, that Cordelia turned abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Tilly, I did have on my hat and coat," she burst +out hurriedly. "I did think we were going to drive +'way off somewhere to church. But I found out and +hid them in Genevieve's room, so you would not +know and—and tease me," she finished breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Tilly turned back with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"You little rogue!" she began; then she stopped +short. Her face changed. "But—why in the +world did you tell me now?" she demanded curiously.</p> + +<p>"I thought I ought to."</p> + +<p>"Ought to!—ought to let me tease you!" +echoed the dumfounded Tilly.</p> + +<p>Cordelia stirred restlessly.</p> + +<p>"Not that, of course, exactly," she stammered. +"It's only that—that it seemed somehow like—deceiving +you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a moment Tilly stared; then, suddenly, she +darted across the room and put both arms around +the minister's niece. Cordelia was not quite sure +whether she was hugging her, or shaking her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you—you—I don't know <i>what</i> you are!" +Tilly was exclaiming. "But you're a dear, anyhow!" +And it was actually a sob that the astounded +Cordelia heard as Tilly turned and fled +from the room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>To Sunbridge eyes, "church" that morning was +something very new and novel. At eleven o'clock +Genevieve and her father piloted their guests to the +back gallery where seats had been reserved for +them. The minister, a dark-haired, tired-looking +man with kind eyes, had arrived some time before +on horseback. To Mrs. Kennedy, especially, he +looked a little too unconventional in his heavy boots +and coarse garments which, though plainly recently +brushed, still showed the dust of the prairie in spots. +He sat now at one side talking with Mr. Tim while +his "congregation" was gathering.</p> + +<p>And what a congregation it was! As Genevieve +had said, everybody on the ranch came, except those +whose duties prohibited them from coming. Singly, +or in picturesque groups, they settled themselves +comfortably on the back gallery, or along the covered +way leading to the dining-room. Even Teresa, +in a huge fresh apron that made her great bulk look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +even greater, sat just outside the dining-room door, +where she could easily run in from time to time, to +see that the roast chickens in the oven were not +burning, nor the beets on the stove boiling dry.</p> + +<p>The "pulpit" was a little stand placed at the +house-end of the covered way. The "choir" was +the piano in the living-room drawn up close to the +window, with Genevieve herself seated at it. Nor +was the "church" itself devoid of beauty, with its +growing vines and flowers, and its shifting lights +and shadows as the soft clouds sailed slowly through +the blue sky overhead. As to the audience—no +scholarly orator in a Fifth Avenue cathedral found +that day more attentive listeners than did that tired-looking +minister find in the curiously-assorted +groups before him—the swarthy Mexicans, the +picturesque cowboys, the eager-eyed, fresh-faced +young girls from a far-away town in the East.</p> + +<p>They sang first, Genevieve's own clear voice +leading; and even Tilly, who seldom sang in church +at home, found herself joining heartily in "Nearer +my God to Thee," and "Bringing in the Sheaves." +There was something so free, so whole-souled about +the music in that soft outdoor air, that she, as well +as some of the others, decided that never before +had any music sounded so inspiring.</p> + +<p>For the first two minutes after the preacher arose +to begin his sermon, Mrs. Kennedy saw nothing +but the dust on the right shoulder of his coat. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +after that she saw nothing but his earnest eyes. +She had fallen then quite under the sway of his +clear, ringing voice.</p> + +<p>"'While Josiah was yet young, in the sixteenth +year of his age, he began to seek the God of his +fathers,'" announced the clear, ringing voice as +the text; and Genevieve, hearing it, wondered if +the minister could have known that at least a part +of his audience that day would be so exactly, or so +very nearly, "in the sixteenth year" of their own +age.</p> + +<p>It was a good sermon, and it was well preached. +The time, the place, the occasion, the atmosphere +all helped, too. All the Happy Hexagons paid +reverent attention. Tilly, fresh from her somewhat +amazing experience with Cordelia, made many and +stern resolutions to be everything that was good +and helpful, nothing that was bad and hateful. +Genevieve, who had slipped off her piano stool to +an easier chair, sat with dreamy, tender eyes. She +was thinking of the dear mother, who, as she could +so well remember, had told her that she must always +be good and brave and true first, before anything +else.</p> + +<p>"Good and brave and true!" She wondered if +she could—always. It seemed so easy to do it now, +with this good man's earnest voice in her ears. But +it was so hard, so strangely hard, at other times. +And there were so many things—so many, many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +<i>little</i> things—that to Aunt Julia and Miss Jane +looked so big!—things, too, that to her seemed +eminently all right.</p> + +<p>"'When Josiah was yet young, in the sixteenth +year of his age, he began to seek the God of his +fathers,'" quoted the minister again, impressively; +and Genevieve realized then, with misty eyes, that +the sermon was done.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The minister stayed to dinner, of course; and, +in spite of her interest in the sermon, Teresa had +seen to it that the dinner was everything that one +could ask of it. The minister had the place of +honor at the table, and proved to be a most agreeable +talker. Genevieve had not caught his name +distinctly, but she thought it was "Jones." He +lived in Bolo, he said, having recently moved there +from a distant part of the state. He hoped that he +might be able to do good work there. Certainly +there was need that somebody do something. In +response to Mr. Hartley's cordial invitation to stay +a few days at the ranch, he answered with visible +regret:</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir. Nothing would please me +more, but it is quite out of the question. I must go +back this afternoon. I have a service in Bolo this +evening."</p> + +<p>"You must be a busy man," observed Mr. Hartley, +genially.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>The minister sighed.</p> + +<p>"I am—yet I can't do half that I want to. This +outside work among the ranches I shall try to carry +on as best I can. But you're all so afraid you'll have +a neighbor nearer than a score of miles," he added +with a whimsical smile, "that I can't get among you +very often."</p> + +<p>It was after dinner that the minister chanced to +hear Genevieve speak of herself as a Happy Hexagon.</p> + +<p>"Hexagon?—Hexagon?" he echoed smilingly. +"And are you, too, a Happy Hexagon?" he asked, +turning to the mistress of the Six Star Ranch.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. Do you mean you know another +one?" questioned the girl, all interest immediately. +"It's the name of our girls' club—the Hexagon +Club."</p> + +<p>"No, but I heard of one, once," rejoined the man. +"And it isn't usual, you know, so it attracted my +attention."</p> + +<p>"But where was it? When was it? We supposed +we were the only Happy Hexagons in the +world," cried Genevieve.</p> + +<p>The minister smiled.</p> + +<p>"I found my Happy Hexagons at the bottom of +a letter from the East."</p> + +<p>"A letter from the East?" Genevieve's voice +held now a curious note of wild unbelief.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It came before we moved to Bolo. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +elder daughter was teaching in the East, and was +taken ill. Some of her girls wrote to us."</p> + +<p>Genevieve sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Are you—you can't be—the Rev. Luke +Jones!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"That is my name."</p> + +<p>"And is Quentina your daughter?"</p> + +<p>It was the minister's turn to look amazed.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; but—how do you know? Are you—you +can't be—<i>my</i> Happy Hexagons!" he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>She nodded laughingly. She spoke, too; but +what she said was not heard. All of the Happy +Hexagons were talking by that time. The Rev. Mr. +Jones, indeed, found himself besieged on all sides +with eager questions and amazed comments.</p> + +<p>Under cover of the confusion, Mr. Hartley turned +in puzzled wonder to Mrs. Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"<i>Will</i> you tell me what all this is about?" he +begged.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy smiled.</p> + +<p>"Of course! I think perhaps it is all new to you. +Last winter Miss Alice Jones, a Texas lady and the +girls' Latin teacher, was taken ill. The girls were +very attentive, and did lots of little things for her; +but she grew worse and had to leave. Just before +she went, the mother wrote a letter thanking the +girls, and in the letter was a note signed 'Quentina +Jones.' Quentina was a younger sister, it seemed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +and she, too, wished to thank the girls. Of course +the girls were delighted, and immediately answered +it, signing themselves 'The Happy Hexagons.' The +teacher went away then, and the girls heard nothing +more. But they have talked of Quentina Jones +ever since."</p> + +<p>"But it's all so wonderful," cried Genevieve, her +voice rising dominant at last. "Where is Miss +Alice Jones, and how is she?"</p> + +<p>"She is better, thank you, though not very strong +yet. She is teaching in Colorado."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so glad," cried Genevieve, "but I wish +we could see her, too. Only think, girls, of Quentina +Jones being right here, only eighteen miles +away!"</p> + +<p>"One would think eighteen miles were a mere +step!" laughed Tilly.</p> + +<p>"They are—in Texas," retorted Genevieve. +Then, to the minister she said: "Now tell us, please, +Mr. Jones, what we can do. We want to see Quentina +right away, quick. We can't wait! Can +she come over? <i>Can't</i> she? We'd love to have +her!"</p> + +<p>The minister shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Miss Genevieve—thank you +just the same. I'd love to have her. It would do +her such a world of good, poor little girl, to have +one happy time with all you young people! But my +wife has a lame foot just now, and Quentina simply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +cannot be spared. You know she has several +brothers, so we have quite a family. But, I'll tell +you what—you young ladies must all come to see +us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! We'd love to—and we will, +too." (Back in her ranch home, it was easy for +Genevieve to slip into her old independent way of +consulting no one's will but her own.) "When do +you want us?"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," interposed Mrs. Kennedy, +hastily, "if Mrs. Jones is not well, surely we cannot +ask her to take in six noisy girls as guests!"</p> + +<p>"Why, no—of course not," stammered Genevieve. +The rest of the Happy Hexagons looked +suddenly heartbroken. But the minister smiled reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"My wife isn't ill—only lame; and she loves +young people. She'll be just as eager for you to +come as Quentina will be—and Quentina just simply +won't take 'no' for an answer, I'm sure. She +talked for days of the Happy Hexagons, after your +letter came. You must come, only—" he hesitated, +"only I'm afraid you'll be a little cramped for room. +A village parsonage isn't a ranch, you know. But, +if you don't mind sort of—picnicking, and having +to stand up in the corner to sleep—" he paused +quizzically.</p> + +<p>"We adore standing up and sleeping in corners," +declared Genevieve, promptly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then shall we call it Tuesday?" smiled Mr. +Jones.</p> + +<p>"But how can they go?" questioned Mrs. Kennedy, +in an anxious voice.</p> + +<p>"Why, they might ride it," began Mr. Hartley, +slowly; "still, that would hardly do—even should +the ponies come in time—such a long trip when +they haven't ridden any here, yet. I'll tell you. +We'll let Carlos drive them over in the carriage +early Tuesday morning. I reckon the seven of them +can stow themselves away, somehow—it holds six +with room to spare on every seat. Then, Wednesday +afternoon, he can drive them back. Meanwhile, +he can stay himself in the town and get some supplies +that I'm needing."</p> + +<p>"But seems to me that gives us a very short +visit," demurred Mr. Jones, as he rose to take his +leave.</p> + +<p>"Quite long enough—for the good wife," declared +Mrs. Kennedy, decisively. And thus the +matter was settled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>QUENTINA</h3> + + +<p>Quite the most absorbing topic of conversation +Monday was, of course, the coming visit to Quentina +Jones.</p> + +<p>"But what <i>is</i> her name?" demanded Mr. Hartley +at last, almost impatiently. "It isn't 'Quentina,' +of course. I <i>know</i> that man who was here +Sunday would never have named a daughter of his +'Quentina.'"</p> + +<p>"Her name is 'Clorinda Dorinda,'" replied +Genevieve. "She told us so in her letter; but she +said she was always called 'Quentina.' I don't +know why."</p> + +<p>"Whew! I should think she would be," laughed +Mr. Hartley. "Only fancy having to be called +'Clorinda Dorinda' whenever you were wanted!"</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a rhyming dictionary to me," +chuckled Tilly. "'Clorinda, Dorinda, Lucinda, +Miranda,'" she chanted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley laughed, and walked off.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll leave her to you, anyhow, whatever +she is," he called back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll bet he's just dying to go with us, all the +same," whispered Tilly, saucily.</p> + +<p>Cordelia frowned, hesitated, then spoke.</p> + +<p>"Auntie says ladies don't bet," she observed, in +her severest manner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't they?" snapped Tilly; then she, too, +frowned, and hesitated. "All right, Cordy—Cordelia; +see that you don't do it, then," she concluded +good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>Monday was a very quiet day for the girls at the +ranch. Mrs. Kennedy had insisted from the first +upon this. She said that the next two days would be +quite exciting enough to call for all the rest possible +beforehand. So, except for the usual watching of +the boys' morning start to work, there was little but +music, books, and letter-writing allowed.</p> + +<p>Tuesday dawned clear, but very warm. The girls +were all awake at sunrise, and were soon ready for +the early breakfast. Almost at once, afterward, +they stowed themselves—with little crowding but +much giggling—in the carriage, and called gayly +to Carlos: "We're all ready!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we're all aboard, Carlos," cried Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Good, Señorita! It is ver' glad I am to see you +so prompt to the halter," grinned Carlos. "<i>Quien +sabe?</i>—mebbe I didn't reckon on corrallin' the +whole bunch of you so soon!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed, even while she made a wry +face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm afraid Carlos remembers that I was never +on time, girls," she pouted. "But you don't know, +Carlos, what a marvel of promptness I've become +back East—specially since somebody gave me a +watch," she finished, smiling into the old man's +face.</p> + +<p>"All ready!" grinned Carlos, climbing into his +seat.</p> + +<p>"Let's give our Texas yell," proposed Tilly, +softly, as she looked back to see Mrs. Kennedy, Mr. +Hartley, and Mammy Lindy on the gallery steps. +"Now count, Cordelia!"</p> + +<p>And Cordelia did count. Once again her face expressed +a tragedy of responsibility, and once again +the resulting</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">GENEVIEVE!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>was the glorious success it ought to have been. So +to a responsive chorus of shouts, laughter, and +hand-clapping, the Happy Hexagons drove away +from the ranch house.</div> + +<p>It was a pleasant drive, though a warm one. It +did seem a little long, too, so anxious were they to +reach their goal. The prairie sights and sounds, +though interesting, were not so new, now. Even +the two or three herds of cattle they met, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +groups of cowboys they saw galloping across the +prairies, did not create quite the excitement they +always had created heretofore. Quentina and the +minister's home were so much more interesting to +think of!</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose she'll be like?" asked +Elsie.</p> + +<p>"<i>Quien sabe?</i>" laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"There! what does that mean?" demanded +Tilly. "I've heard it lots of times since I've been +here."</p> + +<p>"'Who knows?'" translated Genevieve, +smilingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, who does know?" retorted Tilly, not understanding. +"But what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"That's just what it means—'Who knows?' +The Mexicans and the cowboys use it a lot here, +and when I come back I get to saying it, too."</p> + +<p>"I should think you did," shrugged Tilly. +"Well, anyhow, let's talk straight English for +a while. Let's talk of Quentina. What do you suppose +she's like, girls?"</p> + +<p>"Let's guess," proposed Genevieve. "We can, +you know, for Miss Jones was too sick to tell us +anything, and we haven't a thing to go by but +Quentina's letter, and that didn't tell much."</p> + +<p>"All right, let's guess. Let's make a game of +it," cried Tilly. "We'll each tell what we think,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +and then see who comes the nearest. You begin, +Genevieve."</p> + +<p>"All right. I think she's quiet and tall, and very +dark like a Spaniard," announced Genevieve, weighing +her words carefully.</p> + +<p>"I think she's bookish, and maybe stupid," declared +Tilly. "Her letter sounded queer."</p> + +<p>"I think she's little, and got yellow hair and +light-blue eyes," said Bertha.</p> + +<p>"I think she's got curls—black ones—and +looks lovely in red," declared Elsie Martin.</p> + +<p>"We can trust you, Elsie, to get in something +about her clothes," chuckled Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I think she's got brown eyes like Genevieve's, +and brown hair like hers, too," asserted +Alma Lane.</p> + +<p>"Now, Cordelia," smiled Genevieve, "it's your +turn. You haven't said, yet."</p> + +<p>"There isn't anything left for me to say," replied +Cordelia, in a slightly worried voice. "You've +got all the pretty things used up. I should just have +to say I think she's fat and homely—and I don't +think I ought to say that, for it would be a downright +fib. I don't think she's that at all!"</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh at this; then, for a +time, there was silence while the carriage rolled +along the prairie road.</p> + +<p>Carlos had no difficulty in finding the home of +the Rev. Mr. Jones in Bolo. It proved to be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +little house, unattractive, and very plain. It looked +particularly forlorn with its bare little front yard, +in which some one had made an attempt to raise +nasturtiums and petunias.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! I guess we'll <i>have</i> to stand up in corners +to sleep," gurgled Tilly, as the carriage stopped +before the side door.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h!" warned Genevieve. "Tilly, isn't it +awful? Only think of our Quentina's living here!"</p> + +<p>At that moment the door of the little house +opened, and Mr. Jones appeared. From around his +feet there seemed literally to tumble out upon the +steps several boys of "assorted sizes," as Tilly expressed +it afterward. Then the girls saw her in +the doorway—Quentina. She was slender, not +very tall, but very pretty, with large, dark eyes, and +fine yellow hair that fluffed and curled all about her +forehead and ears and neck.</p> + +<p>"O Happy Hexagons, Happy Hexagons, welcome, +welcome, Happy Hexagons!" breathed the +girl in the doorway ecstatically, clasping her hands.</p> + +<p>"Sounds almost like our Texas yell," giggled +Tilly, under her breath.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was the first to reach the ground.</p> + +<p>"Quentina—I know you're Quentina; and I'm +Genevieve Hartley," she cried, before Mr. Jones +had a chance to speak.</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is Quentina," he said then, cordially +shaking Genevieve's hand. "And now I'll let you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +present her to your young friends, please, because +you can do it so much better than I."</p> + +<p>They were all out now, on the ground, hanging +back a little diffidently. It was this, perhaps, that +made Cordelia think that something ought to be +said or done. She came hurriedly forward as she +caught Genevieve's eye and heard her own name +called.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm Cordelia, and I'm so glad to see you," +she stammered; "and I'm so glad you're not fat +and homely, too—er—that is," she corrected +feverishly, "I mean—we didn't any of us get you +right, you know."</p> + +<p>"Get me—right?" Quentina opened her dark +eyes to their fullest extent.</p> + +<p>Cordelia blushed, and tried to back away. With +her eyes she implored Tilly or Elsie to take her +place.</p> + +<p>It was Genevieve who came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to own up, Quentina," she laughed. +"On the way here we were trying to picture how +you look; and of course we each had to guess a +different thing, so we got all kinds of combinations."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but we didn't get yours," chuckled Tilly, +coming easily forward, with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"Indeed we didn't," echoed Elsie, admiringly.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course we couldn't," stammered Cordelia, +still red of face. "We never, never <i>could</i> +think of anything so pretty as you really are!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>Quentina laughed now, and raised hurried hands +to hide the pretty red that had flown to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you funny, funny Happy Hexagons!" she +cried, in her sweet, Southern drawl.</p> + +<p>Naturally there could be nothing stiff about the +introductions, after that, and they were dispatched +in short order, even to Mr. Jones's pulling the boys +into line, and announcing:</p> + +<p>"This is Paul, with the solemn face. And this +grinning little chap is Edward—Ned, for short; +and these are the twins, Bob and Rob."</p> + +<p>"Are they both 'Robert'?" questioned Tilly, interestedly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. Bob is Bolton, and Rob is Robert. +The 'Rob and Bob' is Quentina's idea—she likes +the sound of it."</p> + +<p>"I told you!—she <i>is</i> a rhyming dictionary," +whispered Tilly, in an aside that nearly convulsed +the two girls that heard her.</p> + +<p>Inside the house they all met "mother."</p> + +<p>Mother, in spite of her lame foot, was a very +forceful personality. She was bright and cheery, +too, and she made the girls feel welcome and at +home immediately.</p> + +<p>"It's so good of you to come!" she exclaimed. +"Poor Quentina has been shut up with me for +weeks. But I'm better, now—lots better; and I +shall soon be about again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I think it was very good of you to let us come," +returned Genevieve, politely, "specially when you +aren't well yourself. But we'll try not to make you +any more trouble than we can't help."</p> + +<p>"Trouble, dear child! I reckon we don't call <i>you</i> +trouble," declared the minister's wife, fervently, +"after all your kindness to my daughter, Alice." +Genevieve raised a protesting hand, but Mrs. Jones +went on smilingly. "And then that letter to Quentina—she's +never ceased to talk and dream of the +girls who sent it to her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did like it so much—indeed I did," +chimed in Quentina. "Why, Genevieve, I made a +poem on it—a lovely poem just like Tennyson's +'Margaret,' you know; only I put in 'Hexagons,' +and changed the words to fit, of course."</p> + +<p>Tilly nudged Elsie violently, and Elsie choked a +spasmodic giggle into a cough; but Quentina unhesitatingly +went on.</p> + +<p>"It began:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'O sweet pale Hexagons,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">O rare pale Hexagons,</span><br /> +What lit your eyes with tearful power,<br /> +Like moonlight on a falling shower?<br /> +Why sent you, loves, so full and free,<br /> +Your letter sweet to little me?'<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>That's just the first, you know," smiled Quentina, +engagingly, "and of course when I wrote it I didn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +know you weren't really 'pale,' at all; but then, +we can just call that part poetic license."</div> + +<p>Genevieve laughed frankly. Tilly giggled. Cordelia +looked nervously from them to Quentina.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, that—that's very pretty," she faltered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, for a little, you won't know just +what to make of Quentina," she explained laughingly. +"We're used to her turning everything into +jingles, but strangers are not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, I don't," cried Quentina, reproachfully. +"There's heaps and heaps of things that I +never wrote a line of poetry about. But how could +I help it?—that beautiful letter, and the Happy +Hexagons, and all! It just wrote itself. I sent it +East, too, to a magazine, two or three times—but +they didn't put it in," she added, as an afterthought.</p> + +<p>"Why, what a shame!" murmured Tilly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve looked up quickly. Tilly was wearing +her most innocent, most angelic expression, but +Genevieve knew very well the naughtiness behind it. +Quentina, however, accepted it as pure gold.</p> + +<p>"Yes, wasn't it?" she rejoined cheerfully. "I +felt right bad, particularly as I was going to send +you all a copy when it was published."</p> + +<p>"You can give us a manuscript copy, Quentina. +We would love that," interposed Genevieve, hurriedly. +Behind Quentina's back she gave Tilly then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +a frowning shake of the head—though it must be +confessed that her dancing eyes rather spoiled the +effect of it.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's because her name rhymes—'Clorinda +Dorinda,'" suggested Tilly, interestedly; +"maybe that's why she likes to write poetry so well."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones laughed.</p> + +<p>"That's what her father says. But Clorinda herself +changed her own name about as soon as she +could talk. She couldn't manage the hard 'Clorinda' +very well, and I had a Mexican nurse girl, +Quentina, whose name she much preferred. So +very soon she was calling herself 'Quentina,' and +insisting that every one else should do the same."</p> + +<p>"But it's so much prettier," declared the minister's +daughter, fervently. "Of course 'Clorinda +Dorinda' are some pretty, because they rhyme so, +but I like 'Quentina' better. Besides, there are +lots more pretty words to make that rhyme with—Florena, +Dulcina, Rowena, and verbena, you know."</p> + +<p>"And 'you've seen her,'" suggested Tilly, +gravely.</p> + +<p>Quentina frowned a moment in thought.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," she admitted; "but I don't think that's +a very pretty one."</p> + +<p>It was Genevieve this time who choked a giggle +into a cough, and who, a moment later, turned very +eagerly to welcome an interruption in the person +of the Rev. Mr. Jones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>Soon after this Quentina suggested a trip through +the house.</p> + +<p>"You see I want to show you where you're going +to sleep," she explained.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Jones told us that," observed Tilly, as +the seven girls trooped up the narrow stairway. +"He said we were to stand up in the corners." +Tilly spoke with the utmost gravity.</p> + +<p>Quentina turned, wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"Why, you couldn't! You'd never sleep a bit," +she demurred concernedly. "Besides, it isn't necessary."</p> + +<p>All but Tilly and Genevieve tittered audibly. +Tilly still looked the picture of innocence. +Genevieve frowned at her sternly, then stepped forward +and put her arm around Quentina's waist.</p> + +<p>"Tilly was only joking, Quentina," she explained. +"When you know Tilly better you'll +find she never by any chance talks sense—but +always nonsense," she finished, looking at Tilly +severely.</p> + +<p>Tilly wrinkled up her nose and pouted; but her +eyes laughed.</p> + +<p>"There, here's my room," announced Quentina, a +moment later. "We've put a couch in it, and if you +don't mind my sleeping with you, three can be here. +Then across the hall here is the twins' room, and +two more can sleep in this; and Paul and Ned's +room down there at the end of the hall will take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +the other two. There! You see we've got it fixed +right well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—well for us; but how about the +boys?" cried Genevieve. "Where will they +sleep?"</p> + +<p>Quentina's lips parted, but before the words were +uttered, a new thought seemed to have come to her. +With an odd little glance at Tilly, she drawled demurely:</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are going to sleep in the corners."</p> + +<p>They all laughed this time.</p> + +<p>"Well, now we've done the whole house, and +we'll take the yard," proposed Quentina, as, a little +later, she led the way down-stairs and out of doors. +"There! aren't my nasturtiums beautiful?" she +exulted, with the air of a fond mother displaying +her first-born. She was pointing to a bed of straggling, +puny plants, beautifully free from weeds, and +showing here and there a few brilliant blossoms.</p> + +<p>Tilly turned her back suddenly. Cordelia looked +distressed. Bertha cried thoughtlessly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you ought to see Genevieve's, Quentina, +if you want to see nasturtiums!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I have Carlos," cut in Genevieve, hurriedly, +"and Carlos can make anything grow. +What a pretty dark one this is," she finished, bending +over one of the plants.</p> + +<p>Quentina's face clouded.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose they are much, really," she admitted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +"But I've worked so hard over them! +Father says the earth isn't good at all. I was so +pleased when that big red one came out! I made +a poem on it right off:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'O nasturtium, sweet nasturtium,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Did you blossom just for me?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Where, oh, where did you unearth 'em—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All those colors that I see?'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>That's the way it began. Wasn't I lucky to think +of that 'unearth 'em?' Besides, it's really true, +you know. They do unearth 'em, and 'twas such a +nice rhyme for nasturtium. Now there's petunia; +I think that's a perfectly beautiful sounding word, +but I've never been able to find a single thing that +rhymed with it. I do love flowers so," she added, +after a moment; "but we've never had many. They +always burn up, or dry up, or get eaten up, or just +don't come up at all. Of course we've never had +a really pretty place. Ministers like us don't, you +know," she finished cheerfully.</div> + +<p>There was no reply to this. Not one of the +Happy Hexagons could think of anything to say. +For once even Tilly was at a loss for words. It +was Quentina herself who broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me all about the East. Let's go up +on the gallery and sit down. I do so want to go +East to school; but of course I can't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it costs too much," returned Quentina. +"You know ministers don't have money for such +things." Her voice was still impersonally cheerful.</p> + +<p>"How old are you?" asked Elsie, as they seated +themselves on chairs and steps.</p> + +<p>"Sixteen last month."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish you could go," cried Genevieve. +"Wouldn't it be just lovely if you could come to +Sunbridge and go to school with us!"</p> + +<p>"Where is Sunbridge? I always thought of it +as just 'East,' you know."</p> + +<p>"In New Hampshire."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Quentina, with a sigh of disappointment. +"I hoped it was in Massachusetts, near +Boston, you know. I thought Alice said it was near +Boston."</p> + +<p>"Well, we aren't so awfully far from Boston," +bridled Tilly. "It only takes an hour and a half +or less to go there. I go with mother every little +while when I'm home."</p> + +<p>Quentina sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Boston! Oh, girls, you don't know how I want +to see Boston, and Paul Revere's grave, and the +Common, and the old State House, and Bunker +Hill, and that lovely North Church where they +hung the lantern, you know.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +'Listen, my children, and you shall hear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,'"</span><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<div class='unindent'>she began to chant impressively. "Oh, don't you +just love that poem?"</div> + +<p>"Who was Paul Revere?" asked Tilly, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Paul Revere!" exclaimed Quentina, plainly +shocked. "Who was <i>Paul Revere!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" scolded Genevieve, as soon as she could +command her voice. "Quentina, that's only some +of Tilly's nonsense. Tilly knows very well who +Paul Revere was."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course she does; and we all do," interposed +Elsie Martin. "But I'll own right up, I +don't know half as much about all those historical +things and places as I ought to."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," chimed in Bertha. "Just because +they're right there handy, and we can go any +time, we—"</p> + +<p>"We <i>don't</i> go any time," laughed Alma Lane, +finishing the sentence for her.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Elsie. "We had a cousin with +us for two weeks last summer, and she just doted +on old relics and graveyards. She made us take her +into Boston 'most every day, and she asked all sorts +of questions which I couldn't answer."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; but excuse me, please," put in +Tilly, flippantly. "I don't want any graveyards +and relics in mine."</p> + +<p>"That's slang, Tilly," reproved Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Is it?" murmured Tilly, serenely.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Besides, people come from miles and miles just +to see those things that we neglect, right at our +doors, almost."</p> + +<p>"But how can you neglect them?" remonstrated +Quentina. "Why, if I ever go to Boston, I +sha'n't sleep nor eat till I've seen Paul Revere's +grave!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't sleep nor eat if I did," shuddered +Tilly.</p> + +<p>"You mean you've <i>never</i> seen it?" gasped Quentina, +unbelievingly.</p> + +<p>"Guilty!" Tilly held up her hand unblushingly.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, Quentina," soothed Genevieve. +"We are interested in those things, really."</p> + +<p>"Then you have seen it?"</p> + +<p>"Er—n-no, not that one," confessed Genevieve, +coloring. "But I've seen heaps of other graves +there," she assured her hopefully, as if graves were +the only open door to Quentina's favor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you've had such chances," envied Quentina. +"Just think—Boston! You <i>said</i> you were +near Boston?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"Less than two hours away?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," exclaimed Tilly, "I told you. +We're less than an hour and a half away."</p> + +<p>"And are you a D. A. R., and Colonial Dames, +and Mayflower Society members, and all that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear me! I don't know," laughed Genevieve. +"Why?"</p> + +<p>"And do you read the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, and eat +beans Saturday night, and fishballs Sunday morning?" +still hurried on Quentina. "You don't any +of you wear glasses, and I don't think you speak +very low."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?" asked Tilly politely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, lots of things," answered Quentina, +"but I've forgotten most of them."</p> + +<p>"Quentina, what <i>are</i> you talking about?" +laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>Quentina smiled oddly, then she sighed.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't true, of course. I knew it couldn't +be."</p> + +<p>"What wasn't true?"</p> + +<p>"Something I found in one of father's church +papers about Rules for Living in New England. I +cut it out. Wait a minute—it's here, somewhere!" +And, to the girls' amazement, she dived into a pocket +at the side of her dress, pulling out several clippings +which seemed, mostly, to be verse. One was prose, +and it was on this she pounced. "Here it is. +Listen." And she read:</p> + +<p>"'Rules for Living in New England. You must +be descended from the Puritans, and should belong +to the Mayflower Society, or be a D. A. R., a Colonial +Dame, or an S. A. R. You must graduate from +Harvard, or Radcliffe, and must disdain all other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +colleges. You must quote Emerson, read the <i>Atlantic +Monthly</i>, and swear by the <i>Transcript</i>. You +must wear glasses, speak in a low voice, eat beans +on Saturday night, and fishballs on Sunday morning. +Always you must carry with you a green bag, +and you should be a professional man, or woman, +preferably of the literary variety. You should live +not farther away from Boston than two hours' ride, +and of course you will be devoted to tombstones, +relics, and antiques. You may tolerate Europe, but +you must ignore the West. You must be slow of +speech, dignified of conduct, and serene of temper. +You must never be surprised, nor display undue +emotion. Above all, you must be <i>cultured</i>.'</p> + +<p>"Now you see you haven't done all those things," +she declared, as she finished the article.</p> + +<p>"I reckon there are a few omissions—specially +on my part," laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"But you are happy there?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am!"</p> + +<p>"How I do wish I could go," sighed Quentina. +"I should love Boston, I know. Alice did—though +she still liked Texas better."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know Boston would love you," chuckled +Tilly, unexpectedly. "Girls, wouldn't she be a picnic +in Sunbridge? She'd be more of a circus than +you were, Genevieve!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," bowed Genevieve, with mock stiffness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, we loved you right away—and we should +Quentina, of course."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," bowed Quentina, in her turn, +laughingly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE OPENING OF A BARREL</h3> + + +<p>It was a merry afternoon and evening that the +Happy Hexagons spent at Quentina's home, and it +was still a merrier time that they had getting settled +for the night. Even Tilly said at last:</p> + +<p>"Well, Quentina, it's lucky a lame foot doesn't +have ears. I don't know what your mother will say +to us!"</p> + +<p>"Only fancy if Miss Jane were here," shivered +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>It was just as the family were finishing breakfast +the next morning that there came a knock at the +door, and a man rolled in a large barrel.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's the missionary barrel—our barrel from +the East!" cried Quentina. "I wonder now—what +do you suppose there is in it?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't anything, I reckon, except old +things," piped up Rob, shrilly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones colored painfully.</p> + +<p>"Robert, my son!" she remonstrated, in evident +distress.</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, you <i>know</i> there isn't—most +generally," defended Robert.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And if they <i>are</i> new, they're the sort of things +we couldn't ever use," added Ned.</p> + +<p>"Boys, boys, that will do," commanded the minister, +quickly.</p> + +<p>The minister, with Paul's help, had the barrel +nearly open by this time.</p> + +<p>"It isn't from Sunbridge, is it?" asked Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"No—though we get them from there sometimes; +but this is from a little town in Vermont," +replied Mrs. Jones. "We had a letter last week +from the minister. He—he apologized a little; +said that times had been hard, and that they'd had +trouble to fill it. As if it wasn't hard enough for us +to take it, without that!" she finished bitterly, with +almost a sob.</p> + +<p>"Rita, my dear!" murmured her husband, in a +low, distressed voice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones dashed quick tears from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I know; I don't mean to be ungrateful. But—times +have been a little hard—with <i>us!</i>"</p> + +<p>Silent, and a little awed, the Happy Hexagons +stood at one side. Genevieve, especially, looked out +from troubled eyes. Very slowly Genevieve was +waking up to the fact that not every one in the world +had luxuries, or even what she would call ordinary +comforts of living. Mrs. Jones, seeing her face, +spoke hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"There, there, girls, please forget what I said!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +It was very kind of those good people to send the +barrel—very kind; and I am sure we shall find in +it just what we want."</p> + +<p>"I know what you hope will be there," cried Bob, +"a new coat for Father, and a dress for you, and +some underclothes for us boys. I heard you say so +last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and Quentina wants a ribbon—not dirty +ones," observed Rob.</p> + +<p>"Robert!" cried Quentina, very red of face. +"You know I don't <i>expect</i> anything of the sort."</p> + +<p>The barrel was open now, and eagerly the +family gathered around it. Even Mrs. Jones's chair +was drawn forward so that she, too, might peep +into it.</p> + +<p>First there was a great quantity of newspapers—the +people had, indeed, found trouble to fill it, +evidently. Next came a pincushion—faded pink +satin, frilled with not over-clean white lace.</p> + +<p>"I can use the lace for a collar," cried Quentina, +taking prompt possession of the cushion. "I'm +right glad of this!"</p> + +<p>A picture came next in a tarnished gilt frame—evidently +somebody's early attempts to paint nasturtiums +in oil.</p> + +<p>"There's a rival for your posies out in the yard," +murmured Tilly in Quentina's ear.</p> + +<p>A pair of skates was pulled out next, then three +dolls, one minus an arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"These might be good—on ice," remarked +Paul, who had picked up the skates.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever have any ice to skate on, here?" +asked Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Not in the part of Texas I've ever been in," he +sighed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones was ruefully smoothing the one-armed +doll's flimsy dress.</p> + +<p>"I—I <i>told</i> them there were no little girls in the +family," she said, her worried eyes seeking her husband's +face. "It—it's all right, of course; only—only +these dolls did take space."</p> + +<p>Some magazines came next, and a few old books, +upon which the boys fell greedily—though the +books they soon threw to one side as if they were of +little interest.</p> + +<p>Undergarments appeared then, plainly much +worn and patched. To Genevieve they looked quite +impossible. She almost cried when she saw how +eagerly Mrs. Jones gathered the motley pile into her +arms and began to sort them out with little +exclamations of satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Next in the barrel were found an ink-stained +apron, a bath-robe, nearly new—which plainly +owed its presence to its hideous colors—two or +three tin dishes (not new), a harmonica, a box containing +a straw hat trimmed with drooping blue +bows, several fans, a box of dominoes, a pocket-knife +with a broken blade, several pairs of new hose,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +marked plainly "seconds," some sheets and pillow-cases +(half-worn, but hailed with joy by Mrs. +Jones), a kimono, an assortment of men's half-worn +shoes—pounced upon at once by Paul and +his father, and not abandoned until it was found +that only two were mates, and only one of these +good for much wear.</p> + +<p>It was at this point that there came a muffled +shout from Ned, whose head was far down in the +barrel.</p> + +<p>"Here's a package—a big one—and it's +marked 'dress for Mrs. Jones.' Mother, you did +get it, after all!" he cried, tumbling the package +into his mother's lap.</p> + +<p>Tremblingly half a dozen pairs of hands attempted +to untie the strings and to unwrap the +coverings; then, across Mrs. Jones's lap there lay +a tawdry dress of pale-blue silk, spotted and soiled. +Pinned to it was a note in a scrawling feminine +hand: "This will wash and make over nicely, I +think, if you can't wear it just as it is."</p> + +<p>"We have so many chances to wear light-blue +silk, too," was all that Mrs. Jones said.</p> + +<p>In the bottom of the barrel were a few new +towels, very coarse, and some tablecloths and small, +fringed napkins, also very coarse.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure, these are handy," stammered +the minister, who had not found his coat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," answered his wife, wearily; "only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>—well, +it so happens that every box for the last five +years has held tea-napkins—and I don't give many +teas, you know, dear."</p> + +<p>Genevieve choked back a sob.</p> + +<p>"I—I never saw such a—a horrid thing in +all my life, as that barrel was," she stormed hotly. +"I don't see what folks were thinking of—to send +such things!"</p> + +<p>"They weren't thinking, my dear, and that's just +what the trouble was," answered Mrs. Jones, gently. +"They didn't think, nor understand. Besides, there +are very many nice things here that we can use +beautifully. There always are, in every box, only—of +course, some things <i>aren't</i> so useful."</p> + +<p>"I should say not!" snapped Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't suppose anything could make me +glad because Aunt Kate makes over the girls' things +for me," spoke up Elsie Martin; "but something +has now. She can't send them in any missionary +boxes, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones laughed, though she looked still more +disturbed.</p> + +<p>"But, girls, dear girls, please don't say such +things," she expostulated. "We are very, very +grateful—indeed we are; and it is right kind of +them to remember us far-away missionaries with +boxes and barrels!"</p> + +<p>"'Missionary'!" sputtered Genevieve. "'Missionary'! +I should think somebody had better be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +missionary to them, and teach them what to send. +Dolls and skates, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," smiled Mrs. Jones, "those +might have been just the things—in some places; +and besides, some of the boxes are—are better than +this. Indeed they are!"</p> + +<p>It was at this point that Cordelia came forward +hurriedly, and touched Mrs. Jones's arm. Her face +was a little white and strained looking.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," she faltered, "I think I ought to +tell you. I'm a minister's niece, and I've seen lots +of missionary boxes packed. I know just how they +do it, too. I know just how thoughtless they—I +mean we—are; and I just wanted to say that I'm +very, very sure the next time we pack a box for +any missionary, we'll—we'll see that our old shoes +are mates, and that we don't send dolls to boys!"</p> + +<p>There was a shout of gleeful appreciation from +the boys, but there were only troubled sighs and +frowns on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I—I wish the barrel hadn't come +when you were here," regretted the minister's wife; +"for indeed the things are all very, very nice. Indeed +they are!"</p> + +<p>"And now let's go out to the flowers," proposed +Quentina. "Maybe a new nasturtium has blossomed."</p> + +<p>All but one of the girls had left the room when +Mr. Jones felt a timid touch on his arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Jones, could I speak to you—just a +minute, please?" asked a low voice. "I'm Cordelia +Wilson, you know."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, Miss Cordelia! What can I +do for you?" he answered genially, leading the way +to the tiny study off the sitting room.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not sure you can do anything," replied +Cordelia, with hesitating truthfulness. "But +I wanted to ask: <i>do</i> you know anybody in Texas by +the name of Mr. John Sanborn, or Mrs. Lizzie Higgins, +or Mr. Lester Goodwin, or Mr. James Hunt?"</p> + +<p>The minister looked a little surprised.</p> + +<p>"N-no, I can't say that I do," he said, slowly.</p> + +<p>Cordelia's countenance fell.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry! You see I thought—being +a minister out here, so,—you might know them."</p> + +<p>"But—Texas is quite a large state," he reminded +her, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I know," sighed the girl. "I've found that +out."</p> + +<p>"Are these people friends of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; they're just a son, and a brother, and +a cousin, and a runaway daughter that I'm looking +up for Sunbridge people."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" The minister hoped his voice +was politely steady.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Of course I haven't had a chance to +ask many people, yet—only one or two of the cowboys. +One of them was named 'John,' but he wasn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +my John—I mean, he wasn't the right John," corrected +Cordelia with a pink blush.</p> + +<p>The minister coughed a little spasmodically behind +his hand. As he did not speak Cordelia went +on, her eyes a little wistful.</p> + +<p>"Would you be willing, please, to take those +names down on paper, Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly, Miss Cordelia," agreed the +man, reaching for his notebook.</p> + +<p>"You see you <i>are</i> a minister, and you do meet +people, so you might find them. I'd be so glad if +you could, or if I could. They're all needed very +much—indeed they are. You see, Hermit Joe is +so lonesome for his son, and Mrs. Snow so worried +about Lizzie, and Mrs. Granger has lost her husband, +so she hasn't anybody left but her cousin, now, +and Miss Sally is so very poor and needs her brother +so much."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," murmured the minister.</p> + +<p>A few moments later his notebook bore this +entry, which had been made under Cordelia's careful +direction:</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Advertisement of missing persons"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>"Wanted:—Information about—</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">John Sanborn</span></td><td align='left'> whose</td><td align='left'> father</td><td align='left'> is</td><td align='left'> lonesome,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mrs. Lizzie Higgins</span></td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>mother</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'> worried,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lester Goodwin</span></td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>cousin</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'> a widow,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 3em;">and</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 1em;">James Hunt</span></td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'>sister</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='left'> very poor."</td></tr> +</table></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If I find any of these people I'll convey all your +messages to the best of my ability," promised the +minister.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Then I'll go out now to the nasturtiums," +sighed the girl, contentedly.</p> + +<p>All too soon the visit came to a close, and all too +soon Carlos appeared with the carriage. Then came +hurried good-byes, full of laughter, tears, and promises, +with all the Jones family except the mother, +grouped upon the steps—and the mother's chair +was close to the window.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, Happy Hexagons, Happy Hexagons,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Come again another day.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Oh, don't forget me, Happy Hexagons,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When you are so far away!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>chanted Quentina, waving one handkerchief, and +wiping her eyes with another.</div> + +<p>"Girls, quick!—give her the Texas yell," cried +Genevieve in a low voice; "only say 'Quentina' +at the end instead of my name. Now, remember—'Quentina'!" +she finished excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Good!" exulted Tilly. "Of course we will! +Now count, Cordelia."</p> + +<p>A moment later, Quentina's amazed, delighted +ears heard:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Quentina!"</span><br /></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<div class='unindent'>Then, amidst a chorus of shouts and laughter, the +carriage drove away.</div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Well, young ladies," demanded Mr. Hartley, +when the tired but happy Hexagon Club trooped up +the front steps of the ranch house late that afternoon, +"how about it? What did you think of the +fair Quentina?"</p> + +<p>"Think of her! O Quentina, you should 'seen +her!" sang Tilly, in so perfect an imitation of the +minister's daughter that the girls broke into peals +of laughter.</p> + +<p>"She's lovely, Father—honestly, she is," declared +Genevieve, as soon as she could speak.</p> + +<p>"And so pretty!" added Cordelia, "and has +such a sweet, slow way of speaking!"</p> + +<p>"Such lovely dark eyes!"—this from Alma.</p> + +<p>"And such glorious hair—all golden and +kinky!" breathed Bertha.</p> + +<p>"And she looks just as pretty in her high-necked +apron as she does in her white dress," cried +Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, upon my soul! What is this young +lady—a paragon?" laughed Mr. Hartley, raising +his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you just what she is, sir," vouchsafed +Tilly, confidentially. "She <i>is</i> a rhyming dictionary, +Mr. Hartley, just as I said in the first place; and +I'd be willing to guarantee any time that she'd find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +a rhyme for any word in this or any other language +within two seconds after the gun is fired. If you +don't believe it, you should hear her 'unearth 'em' +on the 'nasturtium.'"</p> + +<p>"Tilly, Tilly!" choked Genevieve, convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she <i>said</i> she couldn't find one for +petunia," broke in the exact Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean she actually writes—<i>poetry!</i>" +ejaculated Mrs. Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Writes it!—my dear lady!" (Tilly had assumed +her most superior air.) "If that were all! +But she talks it, day in and day out. Everything +is a poem, from a letter to a scraggly nasturtium. +She carries an unfailing supply of her own verses in +her head, and of other people's in her pocket. If +you ask for the butter at the table, you're never +sure she won't strike an attitude, and chant:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Butter, Butter, Oh, good-by!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Better butter ne'er did—er—fly.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"I think I should like to see this young person," +observed Mrs. Kennedy, when the laughter at +Tilly's sally had subsided.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you will sometime. She wants to go +East," rejoined Tilly.</p> + +<p>"She does? What for?"</p> + +<p>"Principally to see Paul Revere's grave, I believe; +incidentally to go to school."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish she could come East to school!" exclaimed +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"So do I—if she'd come to Sunbridge," laughed +Tilly. "She takes things even more literally than +Cordelia does. Sometime I'm going to tell her the +moon <i>is</i> made of green cheese, and ask her if she +doesn't want a piece. Ten to one if she won't answer +that she doesn't care for cheese, thank you. +Oh, I wouldn't ask to go to <i>another</i> show for a +whole year if she should come to Sunbridge!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly! I don't think you ought to talk like +that," remonstrated Cordelia. "One would think +that Quentina was a—a vaudeville show."</p> + +<p>Tilly considered this gravely.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cordelia, do you know?—I believe that +is <i>just</i> what she is. Thank you so much for thinking +of it."</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia, horrified.</p> + +<p>Genevieve frowned.</p> + +<p>"Honestly, Tilly, I don't think you are quite +fair," she demurred. "Quentina isn't one bit of +a show. She's sweet and dear and lovely, with +just some funny ways to make her specially interesting."</p> + +<p>"All right; we'll let it go at that, then," retorted +Tilly, merrily. "She's just specially interesting."</p> + +<p>"She must be," smiled Mrs. Kennedy. "In fact, +I should very much like to see her, and—I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +believe Tilly means her comments to be quite so +unkind as perhaps they sound," she finished with a +gentle emphasis that was not lost on her young +audience.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE PRAIRIE—AND MOONLIGHT</h3> + + +<p>One by one the long, happy July days slipped +away. There was no lack of amusement, no time +that hung heavy—there was so much to be seen, +so much to be done!</p> + +<p>Very soon after the trip to Quentina's home, Mr. +Tim produced from somewhere five stout little +ponies, warranted to be broken to "skirts"—which +Genevieve had said would be absolutely necessary, +as the girls would never consent to ride astride.</p> + +<p>It was a nervous morning, however, for five of +the Happy Hexagons when the horses were led up +to the door. Cordelia was frankly white-faced and +trembling. Even Tilly looked a little doubtful, as +she said, trying to speak with her usual lightness:</p> + +<p>"Oh, we <i>know</i>, of course, Genevieve, that these +little beasts won't teeter up and down like Reddy's +broncho; and we hope they'll bear in mind that +Westerners ought to be politely gentle with Easterners, +who aren't brought up to ride jumping jacks. +But still, we can't help wondering."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, I—I really think I won't ride at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +all to-day," stammered Cordelia, faintly; "that is, +if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"But I do mind," rejoined Genevieve, looking +much distressed. "Of course, girls, I wouldn't +urge you against your will, for the world; but we +can't have half the fun here unless you ride, for we +go everywhere, 'most, in the saddle. And, honestly, +Mr. Tim says these horses are regular cows. +Father told him he must get steady ones. Won't +you please—try it? It will break my heart, if you +don't. You see I've said so much to the boys, since +I came, about your riding! They were so surprised +to think you could ride, and I was so proud to say +you did!"</p> + +<p>"You—you were?" stammered Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, young ladies," called Mr. Tim, at that +moment, "here's the steadiest little string of horses +going! Who'll have the first pick?"</p> + +<p>"I will," cried Cordelia, wetting her dry lips, and +speaking with a stern determination that yet did not +quite hide the shake in her voice. "That is—I +don't care about my pick, but I'm going to ride—right +away—quick!" she finished, determined that +at least Genevieve should not be ashamed—of +her.</p> + +<p>After all, it was only the first five minutes that +were hard. The little horses were politeness itself, +and seemed fully to realize the responsibilities of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +their position. The girls, determined not to shame +Genevieve, acquitted themselves with a grace and +ease that brought forth an appreciative cheer from +the boys as the young people rode away.</p> + +<p>"Now I feel as if I were in Texas," exulted +Tilly, drawing in a full breath of the fresh, early +morning air.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad—so glad we're all in Texas," cried +Genevieve, looking about her with shining eyes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>According to Tilly, there was always "something +doing" at the ranch house. The boys—much to +their own surprise, it must be confessed—had +adopted "the whole bunch" (as Long John called +the young people), and were never too busy or too +tired to display their skill as ropers or riders. Always +there was the fascinating morning start to +work to watch, and frequently there was in the +afternoon some wild little broncho that needed to +be broken to the saddle, or to be trained to stop, +wheel instantly, stand motionless, or to start at top +speed, according to his master's wishes; all of +which was a never-ending source of delight to unaccustomed +Eastern eyes.</p> + +<p>For pleasant days there were, too, rides, drives +to Bolo, picnic luncheons, and frolics of every sort. +For rainy days there were games and music in the +living room, to say nothing of letters from home to +be read and answered. Most of the twilights—if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +fair—were spent by everybody on the front +gallery watching the golden ball in the west set the +whole prairie, as well as the sky itself, on fire. In +the early afternoon, of course, there was the inevitable +siesta—Tilly's abhorred "naps."</p> + +<p>There were callers at the ranch house, too. +Sometimes a cowboy from a neighboring ranch +came to look after a lost pony, or to see if his cattle +had strayed off the range through a broken fence. +Sometimes a hunter or trapper would stop for a +chat on his way to or from Bolo. Once Susie +Billings in her khaki suit and cowboy hat came to +spend the day; and once, on Sunday, Mr. Jones +came to hold service again. Much to the girls' +disappointment, Quentina did not come with him. +The mother's foot was better, Mr. Jones said, but +the twins had come down with the whooping cough, +and poor Quentina could not be spared to leave +home.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a score of men and teams and cowboys +with their strings of horses would pass on their +way to a round-up; and once two huge prairie +schooners "docked in the yard," as Tilly termed +it; and their weary owners, at Mr. Hartley's invitation, +stopped for a night's rest.</p> + +<p>That was, indeed, a time of great excitement for +the Happy Hexagons, for under Genevieve's fearless +leadership they promptly made friends with the +sallow-faced women and the forlorn children, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +soon were shown the mysteries of the inside of the +wagon-homes.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! it looks just like play housekeeping; +doesn't it?" gurgled Tilly.</p> + +<p>"But it isn't play at all, my dear," replied one +of the women, a little sadly. "Seems now like as +if I ever had a home again what stayed put, that +I'd be happy, no matter where 'twas. Ain't that +the way you feel, Mis' Higgins?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded the other woman, dully, from +her perch on the driver's seat. "But I reckon my +man ain't never goin' ter quit wheelin', now."</p> + +<p>Even Genevieve seemed scarcely to know what +to reply to this; but a few minutes later she had +succeeded in gaining the confidence of the several +children hanging about their mothers' skirts. +Laughingly, then, the young people trooped away +together to look at the flowers—all but Cordelia +Wilson. Cordelia remained behind with the two +women.</p> + +<p>"Please—I beg your pardon—but did you say +your name was 'Mrs. Higgins'?" she asked +eagerly, turning to the woman on the driver's +seat.</p> + +<p>"Why, no—I didn't, Miss. But that's my +name."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; 'twas the other lady who called +you that, of course; but it doesn't matter, so long +as I know 'tis that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't it?" murmured the woman, a little +curiously.</p> + +<p>"No; and—you came from New Hampshire, +once, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>An odd look crossed the woman's face.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't sayin' that."</p> + +<p>"But you did—please say that you did," begged +Cordelia. "You see, I'm so anxious to find you!"</p> + +<p>A look that was almost terror came to the +woman's eyes now.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothin' what you're talkin' about, +and I don't want to know, neither," she finished +coldly, turning squarely around in her seat.</p> + +<p>Cordelia hesitated; then she stammered:</p> + +<p>"If—if you think it's because your mother will +scold you, I can assure you that she will not. She +is very anxious to hear from you—that's all. She's +been so worried! She wants to know if you're doing +well, and all that."</p> + +<p>"What <i>are</i> you talking about?" demanded the +woman, turning sharply back to Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Your—mother."</p> + +<p>"My mother is—dead, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h!" gasped Cordelia. "You mean you +<i>aren't</i> Mrs. Lizzie Higgins—she that was Lizzie +Snow of Sunbridge, New Hampshire, who eloped +with Mr. Higgins and ran away to Texas years +ago?"</p> + +<p>The woman laughed. Her face cleared. Whatever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +it was that she had feared—she evidently +feared it no longer.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss. My name isn't 'Lizzie,' and it +wa'n't 'Snow,' and I never heard of Sunbridge, +New Hampshire."</p> + +<p>"O dear!" quavered Cordelia. "Mrs. Snow +will be so sorry—that is, of course she'll be glad, +too; for you aren't—" With a little gasp of dismay +Cordelia pulled herself up before the words +were uttered, but not before their meaning was +quite clear to the woman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she'll be glad, too, no doubt," she cut +in bitterly; "because I'm not exactly what a woman +would want for a lost daughter, now, am I?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia blushed painfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, please don't talk like that! I am +sure Mrs. Snow would be glad to find any one for +a daughter—she wants her so! And she's her—mother, +you know."</p> + +<p>The woman's face softened.</p> + +<p>"All right," she smiled, a little bitterly. "If I +find her I'll send her to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, will you? Thank you so much," cried +Cordelia. "And there are some others, too, that +I'm hunting for. Maybe you can find them—traveling +around so much as you do. If you've got a +little piece of paper and a pencil, I'll just write them +down, please."</p> + +<p>Thus it happened that when the prairie schooners<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +"sailed away" (again to quote Tilly), one of them +carried a bit of paper on which had been written +full instructions how to proceed should the wife +of its owner ever run across John Sanborn, Lizzie +Higgins, Lester Goodwin, or James Hunt.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was soon after this that the Happy Hexagons +and Mr. Tim, returning on horseback from a long +day on the range, met with a delay that would +prevent their reaching the ranch house until some +time after dark.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody! I don't care a bit," chuckled Genevieve, +when she realized the facts of the case. +"There is a perfectly glorious moon, and now you +can see the prairie by moonlight. And you never +really have seen the prairie until you do see it by +moonlight, you know!"</p> + +<p>"But we have seen it by moonlight—right from +your steps," cried Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but not the same as it will be out here—away +from the ranch house," cried Genevieve. +"You just wait! You'll see."</p> + +<p>And they did wait. And they did see.</p> + +<p>It did seem, indeed, that they never before had +really seen the prairie; they all agreed to that, as +they gazed in awed delight at the vast, silvery wonder +all about them, some time later.</p> + +<p>"Why, it looks more than ever like the ocean," +cried Bertha.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That grass over there actually ripples like +water in the moonlight," declared Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose anything could be so beautiful," +breathed Cordelia. "But, Genevieve, won't +Mrs. Kennedy be dreadfully worried, at our being +so late?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm afraid so," she admitted. "Still, she +has Father to comfort her, and he'll remind her that +Mr. Tim is with us, and that delays are always happening +on a day's run like ours."</p> + +<p>"I wish she could see this beautiful sight herself," +cried Alma. "She wouldn't blame us, then, for +going wild over it and not minding if we are a little +hungry."</p> + +<p>Tilly, for once, was silent.</p> + +<p>"Well?" questioned Genevieve, after a time, +riding up to her side.</p> + +<p>"I don't know any one—only Quentina—who +could do justice to it," breathed Tilly. And, to +Genevieve's amazement, the moonlight showed a +tear on Tilly's cheek.</p> + +<p>There was a long minute of silence. The +moon was very bright, yet the many swift-flying +clouds brought moments of soft darkness, and +cast weird shadows across the far-reaching +prairie.</p> + +<p>"I think I smell a storm coming—sometime," +sniffed Mr. Tim, his face to the wind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be lovely to have it come while we +were out here," gurgled Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Hardly!" rejoined Mr. Tim with emphasis. +"I reckon you needn't worry about that storm for +some hours yet. I'll have you all safely corralled +long before it breaks—never fear."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't fearing. I was hoping," retorted Tilly +in a voice that brought a chuckle to the man's lips.</p> + +<p>A moment later Mr. Tim stopped his horse and +pointed to the right.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that black shadow over there?" he +asked Bertha Brown, who was nearest him.</p> + +<p>"Yes. From a cloud, isn't it?" Bertha, too, +stopped to look.</p> + +<p>"I think not. It's a bunch of cattle, I reckon. +I think I make out the guards riding round them."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Tim?" Genevieve and the +other girls had caught up with them now.</p> + +<p>"Cattle—over there. See?" explained Mr. +Tim, briefly.</p> + +<p>At that moment the moon came out unusually +clear.</p> + +<p>"I can see two men on horseback, passing each +other," cried Bertha.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes—the guard. They ride around the bunch +in opposite ways, you know."</p> + +<p>"Let's go nearer! I want to see," proposed Tilly, +trying to quiet the restless movements of her pony.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 313px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.jpg" width="313" height="366" alt=""'FOLLOW ME—QUICK!' HE ORDERED"" title=""'FOLLOW ME—QUICK!' HE ORDERED"" /> +<span class="caption">"'FOLLOW ME—QUICK!' HE ORDERED"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I reckon not, Miss Tilly. A stampede ain't +what I'm looking for to amuse you all to-night."</p> + +<p>"What's a stampede?" asked Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tim, look—quick!" Genevieve's voice +was urgent, a little frightened. But the man had +not needed that. With a sharp word behind his +teeth, he spurred his horse.</p> + +<p>"Follow me—quick!" he ordered. And with a +frightened cry they obeyed.</p> + +<p>Genevieve obeyed, too—but she looked back +over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>The moon was very bright now. The black +shadow to the right had become a wedge-shaped, +compact, seething mass, sweeping rapidly toward +them. There was a rushing swish in the air, and +the sound of hoarse shouts. A few moments later +the maddened beasts swept across their path, well +to the rear.</p> + +<p>"I'll answer your question, now, Miss Tilly," +said Mr. Tim, as they reined in their horses and +looked backward at the shadowy mass. "That was +a stampede."</p> + +<p>"But what will they do with them?" chattered +Cordelia, with white lips. "How can they ever +stop them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they'll head them off—get them to running +in a circle, probably, till they can quiet them +and make them lie down again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And will they be all right—then?" shivered +Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; yes," nodded Mr. Tim, "—till the +next thing sets them going. Then they'll be again +on their feet, every last one of them—heads and +tails erect. Oh, they're a pretty sight then—they +are!"</p> + +<p>"They must be," remarked Tilly. "Still—well, +I sha'n't ask you again what a stampede is—not +to-night."</p> + +<p>Mr. Tim laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Tilly, 'tain't likely I could show you +one if you did. I don't always keep 'em so handy! +And now I reckon we'd better hit the trail for the +Six Star, and be right lively about it, too," he added, +"or we'll be having Mis' Kennedy out here herself +on a broncho after ye!"</p> + +<p>Half an hour later a white-faced, teary-eyed little +woman at the Six Star Ranch was trying to get her +joyful arms around six girls at once.</p> + +<p>It was the next morning, and just before Mr. +Tim's predicted storm broke, that the girls found +the injured man almost hidden in the tall grass near +the ranch house. They had gone out for a short +ride, but had kept near shelter owing to the threatening +sky. Tilly saw the man first.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, there's a man down there," she cried +softly. "He's hurt, I think."</p> + +<p>Genevieve was off her horse at once. The man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +was found to be breathing, but apparently unconscious. +He lay twisted in a little huddled heap, +with one of his legs bent under him. He groaned +faintly when Genevieve spoke to him.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was a little white when she straightened +up.</p> + +<p>"I think we'll have to get a wagon, or something, +and two of the boys," she said. "I'll ride +back to the house if some of you girls will stay +here."</p> + +<p>"We'll all stay," promised Cordelia; "only be +quick," she added, slipping from her pony's back, +and giving the reins to Bertha. "Maybe if I could +hold his poor head he'd be more comfortable."</p> + +<p>Cautiously she sat down on the ground and lifted +the man's head to her lap. He groaned again +faintly, and opened his eyes. They were large and +dark. For a moment there was only pain in their +depths; then, gradually, there came a look of profound +amazement.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" he asked feebly.</p> + +<p>"Sh! Don't talk. You are on the prairie. You +must have got hurt, some way."</p> + +<p>He tried to move, and groaned again.</p> + +<p>"Please be still," begged Cordelia. "You'll +make things worse. We've sent for help, and they'll +be here right away."</p> + +<p>The man closed his eyes now. He did not speak +again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>It seemed a long time, but it was really a very +short one, before Genevieve came with Carlos and +Pedro and one of the ranch wagons. The man +groaned again, and grew frightfully white when +they lifted him carefully into the wagon. Then he +fainted. He was still unconscious when they +reached the ranch house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>A MAN AND A MYSTERY</h3> + + +<p>August came. The first few days of the month +were particularly busy ones as some of the boys +were off to a round-up on the fifth, and Mr. Hartley +was going with them for a week. To the girls +the big four-horse wagon for the food and bedding—the +"wheeled house" that was to be home for +the boys—was always an object of great interest. +Then there was the excitement of the start on the +day itself, which this time was made particularly +momentous by the going of Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>The ranch house seemed very lonely without its +genial, generous-hearted owner, and everybody was +glad that he had promised to come back in a week. +Meanwhile, of course, there was "the man."</p> + +<p>The man was he who had been found by the girls +in the prairie grass. He was still almost as much +of a mystery as ever. Mr. Hartley had insisted +upon his staying—and, indeed (though no bones +were broken), he was quite too badly injured to be +moved for a time. He was able now to sit in the +big comfortable chairs on the back gallery; and he +spent hours there every day, sometimes reading,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +more often sitting motionless, with his dark eyes +closed, and his hands resting on his crutches by his +side.</p> + +<p>He had not seemed to care to talk of himself. +He had merely said that his horse had thrown him, +and that he had lain in the grass for some time before +he was found. He was quiet, had good manners, +and used good language. He said that his +name was John Edwards. He seemed deeply grateful +for all kindness shown him, but was plainly anxious +to be well enough to be on his way again. Mr. +Hartley, however, had won his promise to remain +till he himself returned from the round-up.</p> + +<p>All the young people did their best to make the +injured man's time pass as pleasantly as possible; +and very often one or another of them might be +found reading to him, or playing a game of checkers +or chess with him.</p> + +<p>It was on such an occasion that Cordelia Wilson, +at the conclusion of a game of checkers, found the +courage to say something that had long been on +her mind.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Edwards, do—do you know Texas very +well?"</p> + +<p>The man smiled a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Cordelia, Texas is rather large, you +know."</p> + +<p>Cordelia sighed almost impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I—I wish every one wouldn't always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +say that," she lamented. "It's so discouraging!"</p> + +<p>"Dis—couraging?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—when you're trying to find some one."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And are you trying to find some one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; four some ones."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should think that might be difficult—in +Texas, unless you know where they are," smiled +the man.</p> + +<p>"I don't; and that's what's the matter," sighed +Cordelia. "That's why I was going to ask you, to +see if you didn't know, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Ask <i>me?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes. That is, if you had been around any—in +Texas. You see I ask everybody, almost. I +have to," she apologized a little wistfully. "And +even then it looks as if I should have to go back to +Sunbridge without finding one of them. And I'd +so hate to do that!"</p> + +<p>The man started visibly.</p> + +<p>"Go back—where?"</p> + +<p>"To Sunbridge."</p> + +<p>"Sunbridge—?"</p> + +<p>"Sunbridge, New Hampshire; home, you know."</p> + +<p>An odd expression crossed the man's face.</p> + +<p>"No—I didn't know," he said, after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Why, didn't any of us ever tell you we were +from the East?" cried Cordelia.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, lots of times. But you never happened +to mention the town before, I think."</p> + +<p>"Why, how funny!" murmured Cordelia.</p> + +<p>The man did not speak. He seemed to have +fallen into a reverie. Cordelia stirred restlessly in +her seat.</p> + +<p>"Did you say you would help me?" she asked +at last, timidly.</p> + +<p>"Help you?" The man seemed to have forgotten +what she had been speaking of.</p> + +<p>"Help me to find them, you know—those +people I'm looking for."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," laughed the man, easily. +"Who are—" He stopped abruptly. For the +second time an odd expression crossed his face. +"Are they—Sunbridge people?" he asked, stooping +to pick up a dried leaf from the gallery +floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Edwards. There are four of them—three +men and one woman. They are John Sanborn, +Lester Goodwin, James Hunt, and Mrs. Lizzie +Higgins. Maybe you know some of them. Do +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Cordelia,"—the man stopped a +minute, as he reached for a leaf still farther away—"is +that quite to be expected?" he asked then, +lightly.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," she sighed; "for, of course, +Texas <i>is</i> big. But if you would please just put their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +names down on paper same as the others have, that +would help a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," agreed the man, reaching into +his pocket and bringing out a little notebook not +unlike the minister's. "Now suppose you—you +give me those names again, Miss Cordelia."</p> + +<p>"John Sanborn, Lester Goodwin, James Hunt, +and Mrs. Lizzie Higgins. And I am Cordelia Wilson, +you know. Just 'Sunbridge, New Hampshire,' +would reach me—if you found any of them."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember—if I find any of them," murmured +the man, as he wrote the last name.</p> + +<p>"And thank you so much!" beamed Cordelia.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. The man was +playing with his pencil.</p> + +<p>"Did you say you were <i>asked</i> to find these +people?" he inquired at last, examining the lead +of his pencil intently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! And may I inquire who asked +you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course! The people who belong to +them—who are so anxious for them to come back, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then they want them?" The man was +still examining the point of his pencil.</p> + +<p>"Indeed they do, Mr. Edwards," cried Cordelia, +glad to find her new audience so interested. "Mrs. +Lizzie Higgins eloped years ago, and her mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +Mrs. Snow, is terribly worried. She's never heard +a word from her. Mrs. Granger is a widow, and +very poor. Her husband died last year. She hasn't +any one left but her cousin, Lester Goodwin, now, +and she so wishes she could find him. Lester's had +some money left him, but if he isn't found this year, +it'll go to some one else."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" The man gave a short little laugh that +sounded not quite pleasant, as he lifted his head +suddenly. "I begin to see. Mrs. Granger thinks +if she had Lester, and Lester had the money, why +she'd get the money, too, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir—not exactly," objected Cordelia. +"You see, if he <i>isn't</i> found the money goes to <i>her</i>, +so she thinks she ought to make a special effort to +find him. She says she wouldn't sleep a wink if +she took all that money <i>without</i> trying to find him; +so she asked me. Of course the lawyers are hunting, +anyway."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h!" said the man again; but this time he +did not laugh. "Hm-m; well—are there any +fortunes left the other two?" he asked, after a +moment's silence. He had gone back to his pencil +point.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir," laughed Cordelia, a little ruefully. +"I'm afraid they won't think so. <i>They're</i> wanted +to <i>help</i> folks."</p> + +<p>"To help folks!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. You see John Sanborn's father is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +very poor, and he lives all alone in a little bit +of a house in the woods. He's called 'Hermit +Joe.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes—go on," bade the man, as Cordelia +stopped for breath. The man's voice was husky—perhaps +because he had stooped to pick up another +dried leaf.</p> + +<p>"There isn't much more about him, only he's +terribly lonesome and wants his boy, he says. You +see, the boy ran away years and years ago. I don't +think that was very nice of him. Do you?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. The man sat now with +his hand over his eyes. Cordelia wondered if perhaps +she had tired him.</p> + +<p>"And that's all," she said hurriedly; "only Sally +Hunt's brother, James. If he isn't found she'll +have to go to the Poor Farm, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia started nervously. The man had turned +upon her so sharply that his crutches fell to the +floor with a crash.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon," she apologized, +springing to her feet. "I'm so afraid you were +asleep, and I startled you. I—I will go now. And—and +thank you ever so much for writing down +those names!"</p> + +<p>The man shook his head decidedly.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," he begged. "You have not tired +me, and I like to hear you talk. Now sit down,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +please, and tell me all about these people—this +James Hunt's sister, and all the rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you really want to know about them?" +cried Cordelia, joyfully. "Then I will tell you; +for maybe it would help you find them, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, maybe it would," agreed the man, in a +curiously vibrant voice, as Cordelia seated herself +again at his side. "Now talk."</p> + +<p>And Cordelia talked. She talked not only then, +but several times after that, and she talked always +of Sunbridge. Mr. Edwards seemed so interested +in everything and everybody there, though specially, +of course, in the relatives of the four lost people +she was trying to find—which was natural, certainly, +thought Cordelia, inasmuch as he, too, was +going to search for them in the weeks to come.</p> + +<p>Mr. Edwards improved in health very rapidly +these days. He discarded his crutches, and seemed +feverishly anxious to test his strength on every occasion. +Upon Mr. Hartley's return from the +round-up, the injured man insisted that he was +quite well enough to go away; and, in spite of the +kind ranchman's protests, he did go the next day +after Mr. Hartley's return. Carlos drove him to +Bolo, and the Happy Hexagons stood on the ranch-house +steps and gave him their Texas yell as a +send-off, substituting a lusty "MR. EDWARDS" +for Genevieve's name at the end.</p> + +<p>"That is the most convenient yell," chuckled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +Tilly, as the ranch wagon with Carlos and Mr. Edwards +drove away. "It'll do for anything and +anybody. And didn't Mr. Edwards like it!"</p> + +<p>"Of course he did! He couldn't help it," cried +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Edwards is a very nice man," observed +Cordelia, with emphasis, "and I wish he +could have stayed for the party."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course he's a nice man," chimed in +the other girls, eyeing her earnest face a little curiously.</p> + +<p>"Who said he wasn't?" laughed Tilly. "My! +but it is hot, isn't it?" she added, dropping into one +of the big wicker chairs near her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course we have to have some warm +weather," bridled Genevieve, "else you'd be homesick +for New Hampshire!"</p> + +<p>"The mean annual temperature of the country +near—" began Tilly, mischievously; but Genevieve +put her hands to her ears and fled.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The fourteenth of August was to be a gala occasion +at the Six Star Ranch, for there was to be a +supper and dance to entertain the friends from the +East.</p> + +<p>"But where'll you get your guests?" demanded +Tilly, when she first heard of the plan. "Whom +can you have, 'way off here like this?—all will +please take notice that I said '<i>whom</i>'!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed and tossed her head a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll have the boys here on the ranch, of +course, and Susie Billings, and some of the other +Bolo girls. We can't have Quentina, of course—Poor +thing! Isn't it a shame about that whooping +cough?—and Ned's got it, too, now, you know!—but +I think the Boyntons will come. Their ranch +is only thirty-five miles away, and they could stay +all night, of course."</p> + +<p>"Only thirty-five miles away," repeated Tilly, +airily. "Of course nobody'd mind a little thing +like that, for a party!"</p> + +<p>"No, they wouldn't—in Texas," retorted Genevieve. +"There's the Wetherbys, too. They live +five miles out from Bolo on the other side. Maybe +they'll come. We'll ask them, anyhow. Oh, we'll +have a party—never you fear!"</p> + +<p>When the night of the fourteenth arrived, things +looked, indeed, very like "a party." Everywhere +were confusion and excitement, even to the saddle +room and blacksmith's shop, and to the two big +tents that were being put up for extra sleeping +quarters. Everywhere, too (Mrs. Kennedy declared), +were dishes heaped with chocolate candies. +Mr. Edwards, who had left the ranch only the day +before, had sent back by Carlos twenty-five pounds +of the best candy Bolo could supply; and the girls +had been lavish in its disposal.</p> + +<p>Five Wetherbys and six Boyntons had arrived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +together with a dozen cowboys on horseback. Susie +Billings, minus her khaki and cartridges, looked the +picture of demureness in white muslin and baby-blue +ribbons. There were other pretty girls, too, +from Bolo, in white, and in pale pink and yellow. +And everywhere were the Happy Hexagons, wildly +excited, and delighted with it all.</p> + +<p>The big hall and the living-room had been cleared +for dancing. The galleries and the long covered +way leading to the dining room had been decorated +with flowers and lanterns. The long table in the +dining-room was decorated, too, and would later be +loaded with all sorts of good things: sandwiches, +hot biscuits, tamales, cakes, and black coffee without +sugar. In the center of the table already there was +a huge round white something that called forth delighted +clappings from the Happy Hexagons as they +flocked in at seven o'clock to look at the table decorations.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a lovely cake," gurgled Tilly, "and +such a big one!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed mischievously.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you the whole cake—if you'll cut it," +she proposed.</p> + +<p>With manifest alacrity Tilly reached for a knife.</p> + +<p>"Done!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Before the knife descended, Genevieve caught her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Wait! Look here," she parleyed. Taking the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +knife, she thrust its point through the elaborate +white frosting, with two or three gentle taps.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's hard!—hard as stone," ejaculated +Tilly, trying for herself.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> stone," laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Stone!" cried a chorus of unbelieving voices.</p> + +<p>"Yes, stone—frosted with sugar and the whites +of eggs. Oh, if you'd lived in Texas as long as I +have you'd have seen them before," nodded Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've got my opinion of Texas cakes, +then," pouted Tilly, with saucy impertinence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll change it later, I reckon—when +you see the real ones," rejoined Genevieve, comfortably, +as they left the dining-room.</p> + +<p>There never had been, surely, such a party. All +the Happy Hexagons agreed to that. So, too, did +all the guests. Perhaps on no one's face was there +a look of anxious care except on Cordelia's. Possibly +Mr. Hartley noticed this look. At all events +he watched Cordelia rather closely, as the evening +advanced, particularly after he chanced to overhear +some of her remarks to his guests. Then he sought +his daughter.</p> + +<p>"Dearie," he began in a low voice, leading her a +little to one side, "what in the world ails that little +Miss Cordelia?"</p> + +<p>"Ails her! What do you mean? Is she sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think so; but she looks as if she'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +got the weight of the whole outfit on her shoulders, +and she seems to be going 'round asking everybody +if they knew John somebody, or Lizzie somebody +else."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed merrily; but almost at once +she frowned and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know, Father, what is the matter. +But Cordelia is capable of—anything, if once her +conscience is stirred. Why don't you ask her yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I will, dearie," he asserted at last.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later he chanced to find Cordelia +without a partner.</p> + +<p>"Miss Cordelia, will you accept an old man for +this dance?" he asked genially. "And shall we +sit it out, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you! I'd love to," cried Cordelia in +a relieved voice. "And I shall be so glad to +rest!"</p> + +<p>"Tired—dancing?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not dancing; that is—well—" She +stopped, and colored painfully.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley waited a moment, then observed with +a smile:</p> + +<p>"You seem to be looking for some one to-night, +Miss Cordelia. Didn't I hear you asking Mr. Boynton +and Joe Wetherby if they knew John somebody +or other?"</p> + +<p>Again a pink flush spread over Cordelia's face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +"Yes, sir; I am looking for somebody—four +somebodies."</p> + +<p>"You don't say! Found them yet?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. To the man's surprise and +distress, her eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Hartley, and that's what's the trouble. +That's why I'm trying so hard to-night to ask all +these people—there's such a little time left!"</p> + +<p>"Time—left?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I'd like to tell you about it, please. I +think I may tell you. Of course I haven't said a +word to the girls, because the people—back in Sunbridge—didn't +want me to talk about it. I'm looking +for John Sanborn, Lester Goodwin, James Hunt, +and Mrs. Lizzie Higgins. They're all Sunbridge +people who came to Texas years ago, and are +lost."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley gave a sudden exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Did you say—Lester Goodwin was one?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who wants him, and what for?"</p> + +<p>Patiently Cordelia told him. She wore a hopeless +air. She had ceased, evidently, to expect anything +that was good.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley gave a low whistle. For a moment +he was silent, then he chuckled unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Cordelia, if you hadn't looked so +far away for your pony you might have seen his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +tracks nearer home, perhaps. As it happens, Lester +Goodwin is right here on the ranch."</p> + +<p>"Here? Lester Goodwin?" gasped Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Oh, he isn't known by that name—he +preferred not to be. He came to me fourteen years +ago, and he's been here ever since. He said he +wanted to be a cowboy; that he'd always wanted +to be one ever since when, as a little boy, he used +to rope his rocking-horse with his mother's clothes-line. +His uncle had wanted him to be a teacher, +but he hated the sight of books; so when his uncle +died, he ran away and came here. He said there +wasn't anybody to care where he was, or what he +did; so I let him stay."</p> + +<p>"And to think he's here now!"</p> + +<p>"He certainly is. You see he came here because +he knew me once a little when I was in Sunbridge +visiting relatives, years ago, and he knew I had become +a ranchman in Texas. He begged so hard +that I should keep his secret that I've always kept +it. Besides, there was nothing to keep. Nobody +ever asked me, or suspected he was here."</p> + +<p>"Why, how strange!" breathed Cordelia, with +shining eyes. "And only think how I've asked +everybody but you—and now I've found one of +them right here!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—though we mustn't be too sure, of +course. We'll tell him; but maybe he won't want +to go back, even now. I reckon, however, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +when he hears of the money, Reddy won't mind +his real name being known."</p> + +<p>"Reddy!" cried Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Oh!—I didn't tell you, did I?" smiled Mr. +Hartley. "Yes, Reddy is Lester Goodwin."</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Hartley! And I never thought of +such a thing as asking <i>him!</i> I only looked for the +cowboys who were called 'John' or 'James' or +'Lester'—and there weren't many of those. And +so it's Reddy—why, I just can't believe it's true!"</p> + +<p>"I reckon Reddy can't, either," laughed Mr. +Hartley. "And now we'll let you go back to your +dancing, my dear. I've already encountered at least +four pairs of glowering eyes unpleasantly pointed +in my direction. I'll go and find Reddy—or +rather, Mr. Lester Goodwin," he finished impressively, +as he rose to his feet.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE ALAMO</h3> + + +<p>Two days after the party at the ranch house, +Mr. Hartley made a wonderful announcement at +the dinner table.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, young ladies, to a visit to +San Antonio?" he began.</p> + +<p>"Father, could we? Do you mean we can?" +cried Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, that's just what I mean. It so happens +I've got business there, so I'm going to take +you home 'round by that way. We'll have maybe +a couple of days there, and we'll see something of +the surrounding country, besides. You know +Texas is quite a state—and you've seen mighty +little of it, as yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, girls, we'll see the Alamo!" cried Genevieve. +"Did you realize that?"</p> + +<p>"Will we, truly?" chorused several rapturous +voices.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And what do you know about the Alamo, +young ladies?" smiled Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>"We know everything," answered Tilly, cheerfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +"Mr. Jones's daughter, you know, was our +Latin teacher, and she had the History class, too. +Well, we couldn't even <i>think</i> Bunker Hill but what +she'd pipe up about the Alamo. Now I think Bunker +Hill is pretty good!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we want to see the Alamo, just the +same," interposed Bertha, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Of course!" cried five emphatic girlish voices.</p> + +<p>"All right," laughed Mr. Hartley. "You shall +see it, all of you—if the train will take us there; +and you'll see—well, you'll see a lot of other +things, too."</p> + +<p>Cordelia stirred uneasily. The old anxious look +came back to her eyes. When dinner was over she +stole to Mr. Hartley's side.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hartley, please, shall we see an oil well?" +she asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, little lady, what do you know about +oil wells?" smiled the man, good-naturedly. +"You haven't got any of those to look up, have +you?"</p> + +<p>To his dumbfounded amazement, she answered +simply:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—one."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—well, just what is this proposition?" +he broke off whimsically.</p> + +<p>"If you'll wait—just a minute—I'll get the +paper," panted Cordelia. "Mr. Hodges wrote +down the name."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>Very soon she had returned with the paper, and +Mr. Hartley saw the name. His face hardened, yet +his eyes were curiously tender.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, little girl, that this won't come out +quite so well as the Reddy affair—by the way, +Reddy left an extra good-by for you this morning. +He went away before you were up, you +know. He feels pretty grateful to you, Miss +Cordelia."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't do anything, Mr. Hartley. I do +wish I could see Mrs. Granger when he gets there, +though. I—I'm afraid she doesn't like cowboys +much better than Mrs. Miller does."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Mr. Hartley was +scowling at the bit of paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Did you say you <i>didn't</i> know where that oil +well was, Mr. Hartley?" asked Cordelia, timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I don't know where it is—and I reckon +there doesn't anybody else know, either," he answered +slowly. "I know where it <i>claims</i> to be, +and I know it is just one big swindle from beginning +to end."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," sighed the girl.</p> + +<p>"So am I, my dear. I'm sorry for Mr. Hodges, +and lots of others that I know lost money in the +same thing. But it can't be helped now."</p> + +<p>"Then there aren't any oil wells here at all in +Texas?" asked Cordelia, tearfully.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, yes, child—heaps of them! You'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +see them, too, probably, before you leave the state. +But—you won't see this one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," mourned Cordelia, again, +as sadly she took the bit of paper back to her room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was not many days before the Happy Hexagons +said good-by to the ranch—a most reluctant +good-by. It was a question, however, which felt +the worst: Mammy Lindy, weeping on the gallery +steps, Mr. Tim and the boys, waving a noisy +good-by from their saddles, or Mrs. Kennedy and +the Happy Hexagons—the latter tearfully giving +their Texas yell with "THE RANCH" for the +final word to-day.</p> + +<p>"I think I never had such a good time in all my +life," breathed Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"I know I never did," choked Tilly. "Genevieve, +we can't ever begin to thank you for it +all!"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't want you to," wailed Genevieve, +dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. "I +reckon you haven't had any better time than I +have!"</p> + +<p>Quentina was at the Bolo station; so, too, was +Susie Billings.</p> + +<p>"O Happy Hexagons, Happy Hexagons, I just +had to come," chanted Quentina, standing some +distance away, and extending two restraining +hands, palms outward. "Don't kiss me—don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +come near me! I don't think I've got any whooping +germs about me, but we want to be on the safe +side."</p> + +<p>"But, Quentina, how are you? How are all of +you?" cried Genevieve, plainly distressed. "I +think it's just horrid—staying off at arm's length +like this!"</p> + +<p>"But you must, dear," almost sobbed Quentina. +"I wouldn't have you go through what we are going +through with at home for anything. Such a whoop—whoop—whooping +time!"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you make a poem on it?" bantered +Tilly. "I should think 'twould make a splendid +subject—you could use such sonorous, resounding +words."</p> + +<p>Quentina shook her head dismally.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't. I tried it once or twice; but all I +could think of was 'Hark, from the tombs a doleful +sound'; then somebody would cough, and I just +couldn't get any further." Her voice was tragic +in spite of its drawl.</p> + +<p>"You poor thing," sympathized Genevieve. +"But we—we're glad to <i>see</i> you, even for this +little, and even if we can't <i>feel</i> you! But, Quentina, +you'll write—sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll write," nodded Quentina, backing sorrowfully +away. "Good-by, Happy Hexagons, +good-by!"</p> + +<p>"So that is your Quentina?" said Mr. Hartley<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +in a low voice, as the girls were waving their hands +and handkerchiefs. "Well, she <i>is</i> pretty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she wasn't half so pretty to-day," regretted +Genevieve. "She looked so thin and tired. +I wanted to introduce you, Father, but I didn't +know how to—so far away."</p> + +<p>"I should say not," laughed Mr. Hartley. +"'Twould have been worse than your high handshake +back East," he added, as he turned to speak +to Susie Billings, who had come up at that moment.</p> + +<p>Susie Billings was in her khaki suit and cowboy +hat to-day, with the cartridge belt and holster; so, +as it happened, the last glimpse the girls had of +Bolo station was made picturesque by a vision of +"Cordelia's cowboy" (as Tilly always called +Susie) waving her broad-brimmed hat.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The trip to San Antonio was practically uneventful, +though it was certainly one long delight to the +Happy Hexagons, who never wearied of talking +about the sights and sounds of the wonderful country +through which they were passing.</p> + +<p>"Well, this isn't much like Bolo; is it?" cried +Tilly, when at last they found themselves in the +handsome railroad station of the city itself. "I +shouldn't think Texas would know its own self +half the time—it's so different from itself all the +time!"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.jpg" width="277" height="400" alt=""'THERE, NOW—LOOK!' SHE ADDED"" title=""'THERE, NOW—LOOK!' SHE ADDED"" /> +<span class="caption">"'THERE, NOW—LOOK!' SHE ADDED"</span> +</div> + +<p>"That's all right, Tilly, and I think I know what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +you mean," laughed Genevieve; "but I wouldn't +advise you to give that sentence to Miss Hart as +your best example of logic."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was talking about Texas," retorted +Tilly, saucily, "and there isn't anything logical +about Texas, that I can see. There, now—look!" +she added, as they reached the street. "Just tell +me if there's anything logical in that scene!" she +finished, with a wave of her hand toward the passing +throng.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed, but her eyes, too, widened a +little as she stepped one side with the others, for a +moment, to watch the curious conglomeration of +humanity and vehicles before them.</p> + +<p>In the street a luxurious limousine was tooting +for a ramshackle prairie schooner to turn to one +side. Behind the automobile plodded a forlorn +mule dragging a wagon-load of empty boxes. Behind +that came an army ambulance followed by an +electric truck. A handsome soldier on a restive bay +mare came next, and behind him a huge touring car +with a pompous black chauffeur. On either side of +the touring car rode a grinning boy on a mustang, +plainly to the discomfort of the pompous negro +and the delight of two pretty girls in white who +were in the low phaeton that followed. A bicycle +bell jangled sharply for a swarthy Mexican in a tall +peaked hat to get out of the way, and farther down +the street two solid-looking men in business suits<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +were waiting for a pretty Mexican woman with a +rebosa-draped head to precede them into a car. +Behind them a huge negro woman wearing a red +bandana about her head, waited her turn. And +still behind her a severe-faced young woman in a +tailored suit was drawing her skirts away from two +almost naked pickaninnies.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; perhaps it isn't really logical," +laughed Genevieve. "But it's awfully interesting!"</p> + +<p>"I chose one of the older hotels," said Mr. Hartley, +a little later, as he piloted his party through +the doorway of a fine old building.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't have chosen a lovelier one, I'm +sure, Father," declared Genevieve, as she looked +about her with shining eyes.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was even more convinced of this when, +just before dinner, in response to a summons from +Tilly's voice she stepped out on to the little balcony +leading from her room. The balcony overlooked an +inner court, and was hung with riotous moon-vines. +Down in the court a silvery fountain played among +palms and banana trees. Here and there a cactus +plant thrust spiny arms into the air. Somewhere +else queen's wreath and devil's ivy made a tiny +bower of loveliness. While everywhere were electric +lights and roses, matching one against the other +their brilliant hues.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, I—I think I'm going to c-cry,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +wailed Tilly's sobbing voice from the adjoining +balcony.</p> + +<p>"Cry!—when it's all so lovely!" exclaimed +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>Tilly nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes. That's why I want to," she quavered. +"Honestly, Genevieve, if I stay here long I shall be +writing poetry like Quentina—I know I shall!"</p> + +<p>"If you do, just let me read it, that's all," retorted +Genevieve, saucily. "Where's Cordelia?"</p> + +<p>"Off somewhere with Elsie and Bertha. She +got dressed early—but I sha'n't get dressed at all +if I don't go about it."</p> + +<p>At that moment there was the sound of a scream, +then the patter of running feet in the court below.</p> + +<p>"Why, there they are now," cried Genevieve, +leaning over the railing. "Girls, girls!" she called, +regardless of others in the court. "Look up here! +What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>The girls stopped, and looked up. Cordelia, only, +cast an apprehensive glance over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It's an alligator in the fountain in the other +court," explained Elsie. "Bertha said she heard +there was one there, and so we went to see—and +we found out."</p> + +<p>"I should say we did," shuddered Cordelia, still +with her head turned backward. "I sha'n't sleep +a wink to-night—I know I sha'n't!"</p> + +<p>"An alligator—really?" cried Tilly. "Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +I'm going to hurry and get ready so I can see him +before dinner," she finished, as she whisked into +her room.</p> + +<p>Dinner that night, in the brilliantly lighted, +flower-decked dining-room was an experience never +to be forgotten by the girls.</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose there were such bea-<i>u</i>-tiful +dresses in the world," sighed Elsie, looking about +her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley smiled.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you'd think so, Miss Elsie," he said, +"if you could see the place when it's in full swing. +It's too early yet for the real tourist season, I imagine. +Anyhow, there aren't so many people here as +I've always seen before."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't ask it to be any nicer, anyway," +declared Bertha; and the rest certainly +agreed with her.</p> + +<p>Bright and early the next morning the Happy +Hexagons and Mr. Hartley started out sight-seeing. +Mrs. Kennedy was too tired to go, she said.</p> + +<p>"I'll let business slip for an hour or two," Mr. +Hartley remarked as they left the hotel; "at all +events, until I get you young people started."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; you mean, to—the Alamo?" hinted +Genevieve, with merry eyes.</p> + +<p>"Sure, dearie! The Alamo it shall be," smiled +her father. "Then to-morrow I'll take you to Fort +Sam Houston where there are <i>live</i> soldiers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, is there an army post here, truly?" cried +Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Only the largest in the country," answered the +Texan, proudly.</p> + +<p>"Really? Oh, how splendid! I just love soldiers!"</p> + +<p>"Really?" mimicked Mr. Hartley, mischievously. +"They'll be pleased to know it, I'm sure, Miss +Tilly."</p> + +<p>The others laughed. Tilly blushed and shrugged +her shoulders; but she asked no more questions +about Fort Sam Houston for at least five minutes.</p> + +<p>"Now where's the place—the really, truly +place?" demanded Cordelia, in an awed voice, +when the party had reached the Alamo Plaza.</p> + +<p>"The place—the real place, Miss Cordelia," replied +Mr. Hartley, "where the fight occurred, was +in a court over there; and the walls were pulled +down years ago. But this little chapel was part of +it, and this is what everybody always looks at and +talks about. The relics are inside. We'll go in +and see them, if you like."</p> + +<p>"If we like!" cried Genevieve, fervently. "Just +as if we didn't want to see everything—every +single thing there is to see!" she finished, as her +father led the way into the dim interior under the +watchful eyes of the caretaker.</p> + +<p>Even Tilly, for a moment, was silenced in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +hush and somberness of the place. Genevieve stole +to her father's side. Mr. Hartley, with bared head, +was wearing a look of grave reverence.</p> + +<p>"You appreciate it, don't you, Father?" she +said softly. "You have always talked such a lot +about it."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how any one can help appreciating +it," he rejoined, after a moment, looking up at the +narrow, iron-barred windows. "Why, Genevieve, +this is our Bunker Hill, you know."</p> + +<p>"I know," she said soberly. "How many was +it? I've forgotten."</p> + +<p>"About one hundred and eighty on the inside—here; +and all the way from two to six thousand on +the outside—accounts differ. But it was thousands, +anyway, against one hundred and eighty—and +it lasted ten days or more."</p> + +<p>Genevieve shuddered.</p> + +<p>"And they all—died?"</p> + +<p>"Every one—of the soldiers. There was a +woman and a young child and a negro servant left +to tell the tale."</p> + +<p>"That's what it means on the monument, isn't +it?" murmured Genevieve. "'Thermopylæ had +its messenger of defeat: the Alamo had none.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her father. "I've always wondered +what Davy Crockett would have said to that. You +know he was here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wasn't he the one who said, 'Be sure you are +right, then go ahead'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And he went ahead—straight to his +death, here."</p> + +<p>Genevieve's eyes brimmed with tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it does make one want to be good and +brave and true, doesn't it, Father?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon it ought to, little girl," he smiled +gently.</p> + +<p>"It does," breathed Genevieve. A moment later +she crossed to Tilly's side.</p> + +<p>Tilly welcomed her with subdued joyousness.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, please, <i>please</i> mayn't we get out +of this?" she begged. "Honestly, I feel as if I +were besieged myself in this horrid tomb-like +place. And—and I like live soldiers so much +better!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave her a reproachful glance, but in a +moment she suggested that perhaps they had better +go.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that was lovely," she sighed, as they +came out into the bright sunshine. "The caretaker +told me they call it the 'Cradle of Liberty,' +here; and I don't wonder."</p> + +<p>Tilly uptilted her chin—already the sunshine +had brought back her usual gayety of spirits.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! what a lot of cradles Liberty must +have had! You know Faneuil Hall in Boston is +<i>one</i>. Only think how far the poor thing must have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +traveled between naps if she tried to sleep in all her +cradles!"</p> + +<p>Even Genevieve laughed—but she sighed reproachfully, +too.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tilly, how you can turn poetry into prose—sometimes!" +Then she added wistfully: "How +I wish I could see this Plaza on San Jacinto Day!"</p> + +<p>"What is that?" demanded Tilly.</p> + +<p>"The twenty-third of April. They have the +Battle of the Flowers in the Plaza here, in front +of the Alamo. I've always wanted to see that."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; well, I might not mind that kind of +a battle myself," laughed Tilly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>TILLY CROSSES BRIDGES</h3> + + +<p>In the afternoon the young people again started +out to explore the town. This time Mr. Hartley +was not with them.</p> + +<p>"But are you quite sure you won't get lost?" +Mrs. Kennedy demurred anxiously, as Genevieve +was putting on her hat.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," returned Genevieve, with calm +truthfulness and a merry smile. "But, dearie, it's +daylight and there are six of us. What if we do +get lost? We've got tongues in our heads, and we +know the name of our hotel and of the street it's +on."</p> + +<p>"Very well," sighed Mrs. Kennedy. Then, with +sudden spirit she added: "Dear me, Genevieve! I +shall be glad if ever we get back to Sunbridge and +I have you to myself all quiet again. I'm afraid +you'll never, never settle down to just plain living +after these irresponsible weeks of one long playday."</p> + +<p>It was Genevieve's turn now to sigh.</p> + +<p>"I know, Aunt Julia. It will be hard, won't it?" +she admitted. Then, with a quick change of manner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +she observed airily: "As if anything could be +nicer than learning to cook, and keeping my stockings +mended! Why, Aunt Julia!" The next moment, +with a breezy kiss, she was gone.</p> + +<p>It was a delightful afternoon that the girls spent +rambling about the curiously interesting old town, +which—Cordelia impressively informed them—was +the third oldest in the United States. They +tried to see it all, but they did not succeed in this, +of course. They did stand in delighted wonder before +the San Fernando Cathedral with its square, +cross-tipped towers; and they did wander for an +entrancing hour in the old Mexican Quarter, with its +picturesque houses and people, its fascinating chili +and tamale stands, and its narrow, twisting streets, +which Genevieve declared were almost as bad as +Boston.</p> + +<p>"Boston!" bridled Tilly, instantly. "Why, +Boston's tiniest, crookedest streets are great wide +boulevards compared to these! Besides, when we +are in Boston we don't have to cross a river every +time we turn around."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," retorted Genevieve, +warmly. "Just try to go over to Cambridge or +Charlestown and see. I'm sure I think Boston's +got lots of bridges."</p> + +<p>Tilly sniffed her disdain.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! You're <i>leaving</i> Boston when you cross +those bridges, Genevieve Hartley, and you know it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +But just look at them here! We haven't stirred +once out of San Antonio, and I think I've crossed +five bridges in the last seven minutes. I can imagine +those old fellows who built this town getting tired +of building houses, and saying: 'And now let's stop +and build a bridge for the fun of it!'"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"You've won, Tilly. I'll give up," she chuckled. +"I hadn't meant to tell you; but there <i>are</i> thirteen +miles of river twisting in and out through the city, +and—there <i>are</i> seventeen bridges."</p> + +<p>"Where did you find out all that?" demanded +Tilly, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"In a guidebook that I saw last night at the +hotel. It's the same one, I reckon, that Cordelia's +been giving all her information from," said Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m;" commented Tilly. "Now I <i>know</i> +I've crossed five bridges in the last seven minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't care if there were forty miles +of river and fifty bridges," retorted Genevieve, "if +they'd all have such lovely green banks and dear +little boats!"</p> + +<p>"Nor I," agreed two or three emphatic voices.</p> + +<p>Everywhere and at every turn the girls found +something of interest, something to marvel at. +When tired of walking they boarded a car; and +when tired of riding, they got off and walked.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, folks seem to have a choice of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +houses to live in," observed Tilly, her eyes on a +quaint little white bungalow surrounded by heuisach +and mesquite trees.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they do," laughed Genevieve—Genevieve +was looking at the next one to it: an old-fashioned +colonial mansion set far back from the street, +with a huge pecan tree standing guard on each +side.</p> + +<p>"Well, seems to me just now a hotel would look +the nicest of anything," moaned Cordelia, wearily. +"Girls, I just can't go another step—unless it's +toward home," she finished despairingly.</p> + +<p>"Me, too," declared Tilly. "I'm just plum +locoed, I'm that tired! Say we hit the trail for the +hotel right now. Come on; I'm ready!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed, but she eyed Tilly a little +curiously.</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose Sunbridge will say to +your new expressions à la the wild and woolly +West?" she queried.</p> + +<p>"Just exactly what they said to you, Miss Genevieve," +bantered Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Genevieve's were <i>natural</i>," cut in +Bertha, with meaning emphasis.</p> + +<p>"All the more reason why mine should be more +interesting, then," retorted Tilly, imperturbably. +And with a laugh Bertha and Genevieve gave it up, +as with tired but happy faces, they set out for the +hotel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>At breakfast the next morning, Mr. Hartley announced +cheerily:</p> + +<p>"We'll do the parks, to-day, and the Hot Sulphur +Well and Hotel; and finish with dress parade at +Fort Sam Houston."</p> + +<p>"But—what about your business?" asked Genevieve.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hartley laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all—done," he answered; then, as +the puzzled questioning still remained in her eyes, +he added, a little shamefacedly: "You see, there +wasn't much business, to tell the truth, dearie. I +reckon my real business was to show off the state +of Texas to our young Easterners here."</p> + +<p>"You darling!" cried Genevieve, rapturously, +while all the rest of the Happy Hexagons stumbled +and stuttered over their vain attempts at thanking +him.</p> + +<p>"I declare! I wish we could give him our Texas +yell, right here," chuckled Tilly, turning longing +eyes about the dining-room. "We would end with +'Mr. Hartley,' of course."</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia, in open horror.</p> + +<p>"What is the Hot Sulphur Well, Mr. Hartley, +please?" asked Elsie, who had not heard Tilly's +remark.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to ask some one who's been cured +by it," laughed the man. "They say there are +plenty that have been."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you suppose it looks any like an oil well?" +ventured Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Sounds a bit hot, seems to me, for to-day," +giggled Tilly. "I think I shall like the parks better."</p> + +<p>"All right; we'll let you do the parks—<i>all</i> of +them," cooed Genevieve, wickedly. "There are +only twenty-one, you know, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve Hartley, if you remember your lessons +next year one half as well as you have that +abominable guidebook, you'll be at the head of your +class!" remarked Tilly, severely, as the others rose +from the table, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>It was another long, happy day. The parks, as +Tilly had predicted, proved to be cooler than the +Hot Sulphur Well, and they certainly were more +enjoyable, even though only two of Genevieve's announced +twenty-one were visited—Brackenridge +Park, and San Pedro Park. It was the former that +Cordelia enjoyed the most, perhaps, for it was there +that she saw her much-longed-for buffalo. Tired, +but still enthusiastic, they reached the hotel in +time to dress for the visit to Fort Sam Houston, +upon which Mrs. Kennedy was to accompany +them.</p> + +<p>Getting dressed was, however, a grand flurry of +excitement, for time and space were limited; and +there was not one of the Happy Hexagons who did +not feel that on this occasion, at least, every curl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +and ribbon and shoe-tie must display a neatness that +was military in its precision.</p> + +<p>Perhaps only Elsie of all the girls wept over the +matter. Her eyes were red when she knocked at +Genevieve's door.</p> + +<p>"Why, Elsie!"</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, I've come to say—I can't go," +choked Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Why, Elsie, are you sick?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; it's—clothes. Genevieve, I simply +haven't anything to wear."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, dear, of course you have! We don't +have to dress much for this thing. Where's your +white linen or your tan or your blue?"</p> + +<p>"The white is too soiled, and the other two have +worn places that show."</p> + +<p>"But there's your chambray—that isn't worn."</p> + +<p>Elsie shook her head.</p> + +<p>"But I can't—that, truly, Genevieve. It's got +worse and worse every day, until now <i>anybody</i> can +tell Cora and Clara apart!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve choked back a laugh. She was frowning +prodigiously when Elsie looked up.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Elsie, I've got just the thing," she +cried. "Wear my white linen—it's perfectly fresh, +and 'twill fit you, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>Elsie's face turned scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve! I wouldn't—I couldn't! I'd +never, never do such an awful thing," she gasped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +"Why, what <i>would</i> Aunt Kate say?—my wearing +your clothes like that! Oh, I never thought of your +taking it that way! Never mind—I'll fix something," +she choked, as she turned and fled down +the hall, leaving a distressed and almost an angry +Genevieve behind her.</p> + +<p>For some minutes Genevieve busied herself with +her own toilet, jerking hooks and ribbons into place +with unnecessary force; then she turned despairingly +to Mrs. Kennedy, whose room she was sharing.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, what's the use of having anything +to give, if folks won't take it when you give it?" +she demanded, irritably.</p> + +<p>"Not having followed your thoughts for the last +five minutes, my dear, I fear I'm unable to give +you a very helpful answer," smiled Mrs. Kennedy, +serenely. And Genevieve, remembering Elsie's +shamed, red face, decided suddenly that Elsie's +secret was not hers to tell.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Mr. Hartley marshaled his +party for the start.</p> + +<p>"You're a brave sight," he declared, smiling +into the bright faces about him. "You're a mighty +brave sight; and I'll leave it to anybody if even +the boys in line to-day will make a finer show!"</p> + +<p>The Happy Hexagons laughed and blushed and +courtesied prettily; and only Genevieve knew that +the smile on Elsie's face was a little forced—Elsie +was wearing the green chambray.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was an awed "Oh-h!" of wonder and +admiration when Mr. Hartley's party came in +sight of the great parade grounds at Fort Sam +Houston. There was a still deeper, longer, louder +"Oh-h-h!" when, sitting at one end of the grounds, +the girls heard the first stirring notes of the band.</p> + +<p>To the Hexagon Club it was a most wonderful +sight—those long lines of men moving with such +perfect precision. Fresh from the Alamo as the +girls were, with the story of that dreadful slaughter +in their ears—to them it almost seemed that there +before them marched the brave men who years ago +had given up their lives so heroically in the little +chapel.</p> + +<p>It was Tilly who broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do just love soldiers," she cried, with a +hurried glance sideways to make sure that Mr. +Hartley in the next carriage could not hear her. +"Don't you, Genevieve?" But Genevieve was too +absorbed to answer.</p> + +<p>A little later the band played "The Star-spangled +Banner," and there sounded the signal gun +for the lowering of the colors. In the glorious +excitement of all this, even Tilly herself forgot to +talk.</p> + +<p>After dress parade a certain Major Drew, who +knew Mr. Hartley, came up and was duly presented +to the ladies. He in turn presented the officer of +the day, who looked, to the Happy Hexagons, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +handsome and imposing in sword and spurs. After +this, at Major Drew's invitation, there was a visit +to the officers' quarters, and on the Major's broad +gallery there was a cooling refreshment of lemonade +and root beer before the drive back to the hotel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>"BERTHA'S ACCIDENT"</h3> + + +<p>It had been decided that the party would go to +New Orleans from San Antonio, and then from +there by boat to New York.</p> + +<p>"It'll make a change from car-riding, and a +very pleasant one, I'm thinking," Mr. Hartley had +said; and the others had enthusiastically agreed +with him.</p> + +<p>It was on the five-hundred-and-seventy-two mile +journey from San Antonio to New Orleans that +something happened. In the Chronicles of the +Hexagon Club it fell to Genevieve to tell the story; +and this is what she wrote:</p> + +<p>"It seems so strange to me that we should have +traveled so many thousands of miles on the railroad +without anything happening; and then, just +on the last five hundred (we are going to take the +boat at New Orleans)—to have it happen.</p> + +<p>"We have had all sorts of amusing experiences, +of course, losing trains, and missing connections; +but nothing like this. Even when we had to take +that little bumpy accommodation for a few hours, +and it was so accommodating it stopped every few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +minutes 'to water the horses,' as dear Tilly said, +nothing happened—though, to be sure, we almost +did get left that time we all (except Aunt Julia) +got off and went to pick flowers while our train +waited for a freight to go by. But we didn't get +quite left, and we did catch it. (Dear Tilly says +we could have caught it, anyway, even if it had +started, and that we shouldn't have had to walk +very fast, at that! Tilly does make heaps of fun +of all our trains except the fast ones on the main +lines. And I don't know as I wonder, only I'd +never tell her that, of course—that is, I <i>wouldn't</i> +have told her before, perhaps.)</p> + +<p>"Well, where was I? Oh, I know—on the +sidetrack. (I had to laugh here, for it occurred to +me that that was just where I was in the story—on +a sidetrack! I'm not telling what I started out +to tell at all. It's lucky we can each take all the +room we want, though, in these Chronicles.)</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell it now, really, though I'm still so +shaky and excited my hand trembles awfully. It +was in the night, a little past twelve o'clock that it +happened. I was lying in my berth above Elsie's, +and was wide-awake. I had been thinking about +Father. He has been such a dear all the way. I +was thinking what a big, big dear he was, when IT +happened.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I put IT in capitals on purpose, and I +reckon you would, if suddenly the car you were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +riding in began to sway horribly and bump up and +down, and then stop right off short with a bang +that flung you into the middle of the aisle! And +that's what ours did.</p> + +<p>"For a minute, of course, I was too dazed to +know what had happened. But the next moment I +heard a scared voice wail right in my ear:</p> + +<p>"'Girls, it's an accident—I know it's an accident! +I told you we should have an accident—and +to think I took off my shoes to-night for the +very first time!'</p> + +<p>"I knew then. It was Bertha, and it was an +accident. And, do you know? I'm ashamed to +tell it, but the first thing I did right there and then +was to laugh—it seemed so funny about Bertha's +shoes, and to hear her say her usual 'I told you +so!' But the next minute I began to realize what +it all really meant, and I didn't laugh any more.</p> + +<p>"All around me, by that time, were frightened +cries and shouts, and I was so worried for Father +and all the rest. I struggled, and tried to get up; +and then I heard Father's voice call: 'Genevieve, +Genevieve, where are you? Are you all right?' +Oh, nobody will ever know how good that dear +voice sounded to me!</p> + +<p>"We called for Aunt Julia, then, and for the +girls; but it was ever so long before we could find +them. We weren't all together, anyway, and the +crash had separated us more than ever. Besides,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +everybody everywhere all over the car was crying +out by that time, and trying to find folks, all in the +dark.</p> + +<p>"We found Aunt Julia. She was almost under +the berth near me; but she was so faint and dazed +she could not answer when we first called. I was +all right, and so were Cordelia and Bertha, only +Bertha bumped her head pretty hard afterwards, +looking for her shoes. Elsie Martin and Alma +Lane were a little bruised and bumped, too; but +they declared they could move all their legs and +arms.</p> + +<p>"We hadn't any of us found Tilly up to that +time; but when Elsie said that (about being able +to move all her legs and arms), I heard a little faint +voice say 'You talk as if you were a centipede, +Elsie Martin!'</p> + +<p>"'Tilly!' I cried then. 'Where are you?' The +others called, too, until we were all shouting frantically +for Tilly. We knew it must be Tilly for +nobody but Tilly Mack could have made that +speech!</p> + +<p>"At last we found her. She was wedged in under +a broken seat almost at our feet. It was at the forward +end of the car—the only part that seemed +to be really smashed. She could not crawl out, and +we could not pull her out. She gave a moaning +little cry when Father tried to.</p> + +<p>"'I guess—some of my legs and arms don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +go,' she called out to us with a little sob in her +voice.</p> + +<p>"We were crazy then, of course—all of us; +and we all talked at once, and tried to find out just +where she was hurt. The trainmen had come by +this time with lanterns, and were helping every one +out of the car. Then they came to us and Tilly.</p> + +<p>"And we were so proud of Tilly—she was so +brave and cheery! I never found out before what +her nonsense was for, but I did find it out then. It +was the only thing that kept us all from going just +wild. She said such queer little things when they +were trying to get her out, and she told them if +there was any one hurt worse than she to get them +out first. She told Father that she knew now just +how Reddy felt when his broncho went see-saw up +in the air, because that was what her berth did.</p> + +<p>"Well, they got the poor dear out at last, and a +doctor from the rear car examined her at once. +Her left arm was broken, and she had two or three +painful bruises. Of course that was bad—but not +anywhere near so bad as it might have been, and we +were all so relieved. The doctor did what he could +for her, then we all made ourselves as comfortable +as possible while we waited for the relief train.</p> + +<p>"We found out then about the wreck, and the +chief thing we could find out anywhere was what a +'fortunate' wreck it was! The engine and six cars +went off the track on a curve. Just ahead was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +steep bank with a river below it, and of course it +<i>was</i> fortunate that we did not go down that. No +one was killed, and only a few much injured. The +car ahead and ours were the only ones that were +smashed any. Yes, I suppose it was a 'fortunate +wreck'—but I never want to see an unfortunate +one. Certainly we all felt pretty thankful that we +had come out of it as well as we did.</p> + +<p>"The relief train came at last, and took us to the +next city, and to-day we are started on our journey +once again. We expect to reach New Orleans to-night, +and take the boat for New York Saturday. +We all feel a little stiff and sore, but of course dear +Tilly feels the worst. But she tries to be just as +bright and smiling as ever. She looks pretty white, +though, and what the storybooks call 'wan,' I +reckon. She says, anyhow, she wishes she <i>were</i> a +centipede—in <i>arms</i>—because perhaps then she +wouldn't miss her left one so much, if she had +plenty more of them. There seems to be such a +lot of things she wants her left arm to do. The +doctor says it wasn't a <i>bad</i> break—as if any break +could be <i>good!</i></p> + +<p>"And here endeth my record of 'Bertha's accident'—as +Tilly insists upon calling it, until she's +made Bertha almost ready to cry over it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Owing to the delay of the accident, Mr. Hartley +and his party had only one day in New Orleans before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +the boat sailed; but they made the most of +that, for they wanted to see what they could of the +quaint, picturesque city.</p> + +<p>"We'll take carriages, dearie. We won't walk +anywhere," said Mr. Hartley to Genevieve that +morning. "In the first place, Mrs. Kennedy and +Miss Tilly couldn't, and the rest of us don't want +to. We can see more, too, in the short space of +time we have."</p> + +<p>So in carriages, bright and early Friday morning, +the party started out to "do" New Orleans, as +Genevieve termed it. Leaving the "American portion," +where were situated their hotel and most of +the other big hotels and business houses of American +type, they trailed happily along through Prytania +Street and St. Charles Avenue to the beautiful +"Garden District" which they had been warned +not to miss. They found, indeed, much to delight +them in the stately, palatial homes set in the midst +of exquisitely kept lawns and wonderful groves of +magnolia and oak. Quite as interesting to them +all, however, was the old French or Latin Quarter +below Canal Street, where were the Creole homes +and business houses. Here they ate their luncheon, +too, in one of the curious French restaurants, +famous the world over for its delicious dishes.</p> + +<p>With the disappearance of the last mouthful on +her plate, Tilly drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"I've always heard Creoles were awfully interesting,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +she sighed. "Do you know—I don't think +I'd mind much being a Creole myself!"</p> + +<p>"You look so much like one, too," laughed Genevieve, +affectionately, patting the soft, fluffy red hair +above the piquant, freckled little face.</p> + +<p>At five o'clock that afternoon a tired but happy +party reached the hotel in time to rest and dress +for dinner.</p> + +<p>"Well," sighed Genevieve, "I'd have liked a +week here, but a day has been pretty good. We've +seen enough 'Quarters' to make a 'whole,' and the +Cathedral, and dozens of other churches, and we've +driven along those lovely lakes with the unpronounceable +names; and now I'm ready for dinner."</p> + +<p>"And we saw a statue—the Margaret Statue," +cut in Cordelia, anxiously. "You know it's the +<i>first</i> statue ever erected to a woman's memory in +the United States. We wouldn't want to forget +that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I should like to," retorted Genevieve, +perversely. "It's only so much the worse for the +United States—that it wasn't done before!"</p> + +<p>"I think Genevieve is going to be a suffragette," +observed Tilly, cheerfully, as they trooped into the +hotel together.</p> + +<p>It was from New Orleans that Cordelia Wilson +wrote a letter to Mr. William Hodges. She had +decided that it would be easier to write her bad +news than to tell it. Then, too, she disliked to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +the old man any longer in suspense. She made her +letter as comforting as she could.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. William Hodges, Sir</span>:—" she wrote. +"I am very sorry to have to tell you that I have +looked, but cannot find your oil well anywhere. I +did find a man who had heard about it, but he said +there wasn't any well at all like what the Boston +man told you there was. He said it was a bad +swindle and he knew many others who had lost +their money, too, which I thought would please you. +O dear, no, I don't mean that, of course. I only +mean that you might like to know that others besides +you hadn't known any more than to put money +in it, too. (That doesn't sound quite right yet, +but perhaps you know what I mean.)</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't feel too bad about it, Mr. +Hodges. I saw some oil wells when we came +through Beaumont, and I am quite sure you would +not like them at all. They are not one bit like +Bertha's aunt's well on her farm, with the bucket. +In fact, they don't look like wells at all, and I never +should have known what they were if Mr. Hartley +had not told me. They are tall towers <i>standing up</i> +out of the ground instead of stone holes sunk down +in the ground. (It is just as if you should call the +cupola on your house your cellar—and you know +how queer that would be!) I saw a lot of them—oil +wells, not cupolas, I mean—and they looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +more like a whole lot of little Eiffel Towers than +anything else I can think of. (If you will get your +grandson, Tony, to show you the Eiffel Tower in +his geography, you will see what I mean.) Mr. +Hartley says they <i>do</i> bore for them—wells, I +mean, not Eiffel Towers—and so I suppose they +do go down before they go up.</p> + +<p>"I saw the wells on the way between San Antonio +and New Orleans. One was on fire. (Just +think of a well being on fire!) Of course we were +riding through a most wonderful country, anyway. +We saw a great many things growing besides oil +wells, too, as you must know—rice, and cotton, +and tobacco, and sugar cane, and onions, and quantities +of other things. I picked some cotton bolls. +(I spelt that right. This kind isn't b-a-ll.) I am +sending you a few in a little box. It takes 75,000 +of them to make one bale of cotton, so I'm afraid +you couldn't make even a handkerchief out of these.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry about the oil well, but I did the +best that I could to find it.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 4em;">"Respectfully yours,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Cordelia Wilson.</span>"<br /> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE GOLDEN HOURS</h3> + + +<p>Long before ten o'clock Saturday morning—the +hour for sailing—Mr. Hartley and his party +were on board the big steamship which was to take +them to New York. Here, again, new sensations +and new experiences awaited the Happy Hexagons, +not one of whom had ever been on so large a boat.</p> + +<p>"I declare, I do just feel as if I was going +abroad," breathed Cordelia, in an awestruck voice, +as she crossed the gangplank.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure we <i>are</i>, almost," exulted Genevieve. +"We're going to have a hundred hours of +it. You know that little pamphlet that told about it +called it 'a hundred golden hours at sea.' Oh, Cordelia, +only think—one hundred golden hours!"</p> + +<p>"You'll think it's a thousand, if you happen to +be seasick," groaned Tilly. (Tilly was looking +rather white to-day.) "And they won't be golden +ones, either—they'll be <i>lead</i> ones. I know because +I've been to Portland when it's rough."</p> + +<p>"Well, we aren't going to be seasick," retorted +Genevieve, with conviction. "We're just going to +have the best time ever. See if we don't!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, dearie," said Mr. Hartley, hurrying up at +that moment, "I engaged one of the suites for Mrs. +Kennedy, and I think Miss Tilly had better be with +her. The bed will be much more comfortable for +her poor arm than a berth would be, and Mrs. Kennedy +can look after her better, too, in that way. +The little parlor of the suite will give us all a cozy +place to meet together. There are two berths there +which they turn into a lounge in the daytime. I +thought perhaps you and Miss Cordelia could sleep +there. Then I have staterooms for the rest of us—I +engaged them all a week ago, of course. Now +if you'll come with me I reckon we can set up +housekeeping right away," he finished with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Setting up housekeeping" proved to be an absorbing +task, indeed. It included not only bestowing +their belongings in the chosen places, but interviewing +purser and stewards in regard to rugs, +steamer chairs, and other delightfully exciting matters. +Then there was the joy of exploring the great +ship that was to be their home for so many days. +The luxurious Ladies' Parlor, the Library with its +alluring books and magazines, the Dining Saloon +with its prettily-laid tables and its revolving chairs +(like piano stools, Tilly said), the decks with their +long, airy promenades, all came in for delighted exclamations +of satisfaction which increased to a +chorus of oh's and ah's when the trip really began,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +and the stately ship was wending its way down the +Great River to the Gulf of Mexico.</p> + +<p>First there was to be seen the city itself, nestled +beyond its barricade of levees.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" shuddered Cordelia. "I don't believe +I'd have slept a wink last night if I'd realized +how <i>much</i> below the river we were. Only fancy if +one of those levees had sprung a leak!"</p> + +<p>"Why, they'd have sent for the plumber, of +course," observed Tilly, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Of course! Still—they don't look very leaky, +to me," laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Was it here, or somewhere else, that a man (or +was it a child?) put his arm (or was it a finger?) +in a little hole in the wall and stopped the leak, and +so saved the town?" mused Bertha aloud dreamily.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was," answered Tilly with grave +emphasis; and not until the others laughed did +Bertha wake up enough to turn her back with a +shrug.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was somewhere, anyhow," she pouted.</p> + +<p>"As if we could doubt that—after what you +said," murmured Tilly.</p> + +<p>"But they have had floods here, haven't they?" +questioned Alma Lane.</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave a sudden laugh. At the others' +surprised look she explained:</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not laughing at the real floods, the +<i>water</i> floods they've had, of course. It's just that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +happened to think of something I read some time +ago. They had one flood here of—molasses."</p> + +<p>"Mo—lass—es!" chorused several voices.</p> + +<p>"Yes. A big tank that the city used to have for +a reservoir had been bought by a sugar company and +turned into a storage for molasses. Well, it burst +one day, and a little matter of a million gallons of +molasses went exploring through the streets. They +say some poor mortals had actually to wade to dry +land."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve! what a story," cried Elsie.</p> + +<p>"But it's true," declared Genevieve. "A whole +half-mile square of the city was flooded, honestly. +At least, the newspapers said it was."</p> + +<p>"How the pickaninnies must have gloried in it," +giggled Tilly, "—if they liked 'bread and perlashes' +as well as I used to. Only think of having +such a <i>big</i> saucerful to dip your bread into!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" groaned Genevieve.</p> + +<p>They were at Port Chalmette, now. The Crescent +City lay behind them, and beyond lay the +shining river-roadway, with its fertile, highly-cultivated +plantations bordering each side, green and +beautiful.</p> + +<p>"How perfectly, perfectly lovely!" cried Elsie. +"And I'm not sick one bit."</p> + +<p>"Naturally not—yet," laughed Tilly. "But you +just wait. We don't sail the Mississippi all the way +to New York, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish we did," said Genevieve, her eyes dreamily +following the shore line. "But we're only on it +for a hundred miles."</p> + +<p>"I don't," disagreed Elsie. "I want to see the +Gulf Stream. They say it's a deep indigo blue, +and that you can see it plainly. I think a blue +river in a green sea must be lovely—like a +blue ribbon trailing down a light green gown, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Well, I want to see the real ocean, 'way out—out. +I want to see nothing but water, water everywhere," +declared Alma Lane.</p> + +<p>"'And not a drop to drink,'" quoted Tilly. +"Well, young lady, you may see the time when +you'd give your eyes for a bit of land—and just +any old land would do, too, so long as it <i>stayed +put!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What does it feel like to be seasick?" asked +Cordelia, interestedly.</p> + +<p>"It feels as if the bottom had dropped out of +everything, and you didn't much care, only you +wished you'd gone with it," laughed Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Who was it?—wasn't it Mark Twain who said +that the first half-hour you were awfully afraid you +would die, and the next you were awfully afraid +you wouldn't?" questioned Elsie.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but whoever said it knew what +he was talking about," declared Tilly. "You just +wait!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We're waiting," murmured Genevieve, demurely.</p> + +<p>"You young ladies don't want to forget your +exercise," said Mr. Hartley smilingly, coming up at +that moment with Mrs. Kennedy. "We've just +been five times around the deck."</p> + +<p>"It's eleven laps to the mile," supplemented Mrs. +Kennedy with a smile.</p> + +<p>"What's a lap?" asked Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a kitten on a wager with a saucer +of milk," laughed Tilly, frowning a little as she tried +to adjust her sling more comfortably.</p> + +<p>"Well, young ladies, we'll show you just what +a lap is, if you'll come with us," promised Mr. Hartley; +and with alacrity the girls expressed themselves +as being quite ready to be shown.</p> + +<p>On and on, mile after mile, down the great river +swept the great ship until Forts Jackson and St. +Philip were reached and left behind; then on and +on for other miles to the narrow South Pass where +on either side the Eads Jetties called forth exclamations +of wonder.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better 'ah' and 'um,'" laughed +Genevieve. "They happen to be one of the greatest +engineering feats in the world; that's all."</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?" demanded Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry her," cut in Tilly, with mock sympathy. +"Poor thing! it's only a case of another +guidebook, of course."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, all is, just keep your weather eye open," +laughed Genevieve, "for when we make the South +Pass Lightship, then ho! for the—"</p> + +<p>"Broad Atlantic," interposed Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Well, not until you've passed through the little +matter of the Gulf of Mexico," rejoined Genevieve; +while a chorus of laughing voices jeered:</p> + +<p>"Why, Tilly Mack, where's your geography?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know, I'm sure," returned Tilly, imperturbably. +"Haven't seen it since I studied up +Texas," she finished as she turned away.</p> + +<p>The first night aboard ship was another experience +never to be forgotten by the Happy Hexagons. +In the parlor of the suite Genevieve and Cordelia +kept up such an incessant buzz of husky whispering +and tittering that Mrs. Kennedy came out from the +bedroom to remonstrate.</p> + +<p>"My dears, you mean to be quiet, I know; but +I'm sure you don't realize how it sounds from our +room. Tilly is nervous and feverish to-night—the +day has been very exciting for her."</p> + +<p>"And she has tried so hard to keep up, and seem +as usual, too," cried Genevieve, contritely. "Of +course we'll keep still! Cordelia, I'm ashamed of +you," she finished severely. Then, at Cordelia's +amazed look of shocked distress, she hugged her +spasmodically. "As if it wasn't all my fault," she +chuckled.</p> + +<p>In other parts of the boat the rest of the party<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +explored their strange quarters to the last corner; +then made themselves ready to be "laid on the +shelf," as Elsie termed going to bed in the narrow +berth.</p> + +<p>"I shall take off my shoes to-night," announced +Bertha with dignity, after a long moment of silence. +"If anything happens here we'll get into the water, +of course, and I think shoes would only be a nuisance."</p> + +<p>For a moment Elsie did not answer; then, almost +hopefully she asked,</p> + +<p>"I suppose if anything did happen we'd lose our +clothes—even if we ourselves were saved, wouldn't +we?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I—I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I thought," nodded Elsie, happily. +Elsie, at the moment, was engaged in taking +off a somewhat unevenly faded green chambray +frock.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was on the second day of the trip that Cordelia +took from her suit-case a sheet of paper, worn with +much folding and refolding, and marked plainly, +"Things to do in Texas."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I might as well finish this up now," +she sighed. "I'm out of Texas, and what is done +is done; and what is undone can't ever be done, +now." And carefully she spread the paper out and +reached into her bag for her pencil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>When she had finished her work, the paper read +as follows:</p> + +<p>See the blue bonnet—the Texas state flower. +Find out if it really is shaped like a bonnet. Didn't.</p> + +<p>Bring home a piece of prairie grass. Did.</p> + +<p>See a real buffalo. Did. (But it was in a park.)</p> + +<p>Find Hermit Joe Sanborn's son, John, who ran +away to Texas twenty years ago. Didn't.</p> + +<p>See an Osage orange hedge. Did.</p> + +<p>See a broncho bursted (obviously changed over +from "busted"). Did.</p> + +<p>Find out for Mrs. Miller if cowboys do shoot at +sight, and yell always without just and due provocation. +Did. They do not. Cowboys are good, kind +gentlemen; but they are noisy, and some rough-looking.</p> + +<p>See a mesquite tree. Did.</p> + +<p>Inquire if any one has seen Mrs. Snow's daughter, +Lizzie, who ran away with a Texas man named +Higgins. Did. (But could not find any one who +had.)</p> + +<p>Pick a fig. Didn't.</p> + +<p>See a rice canal. Did.</p> + +<p>Find out what has become of Mrs. Granger's +cousin, Lester Goodwin, who went to Texas fourteen +years ago. Did.</p> + +<p>See cotton growing, and pick a cotton boll, called +"Texas Roses." Did.</p> + +<p>See peanuts growing. Did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>Inquire for James Hunt, brother of Miss Sally +Hunt. Did. (But could not find him.)</p> + +<p>See a real Indian. Did.</p> + +<p>Look at oil well for Mr. Hodges, and see if there +is any there. Did. (But there wasn't any there like +the one he wanted.)</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The paper completed, Cordelia looked at it with +troubled eyes.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't sound quite right," she thought. +"Somehow, the things <i>I</i> wanted to do are 'most all +done, but I didn't find but just one of those people, +and seems as if I ought to have done better than +that. Besides, I'm not at all sure Mrs. Granger will +be satisfied with what I did find for her—a cowboy, +so!" And she sighed as she put the paper +away.</p> + +<p>The trip across the Gulf of Mexico to Dry Tortugas +Light was nothing but a rest and a joy to everybody. +It was still delightful and wonderfully interesting +all the way around the City of Key West and +up by the southeastern coast of Florida with its +many lights and coral reefs.</p> + +<p>Here Genevieve's guidebook came again into +prominence.</p> + +<p>"The Sand Key Light 'way back there is our +most southern possession, and only fifty-seven miles +from the line of the Tropics," she announced glibly +one day. "We're coming to the American Shoals<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +Light, the Sombrero Light, Alligator Light, Carysfort +Light and Fowey Rock Light."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! Didn't you sleep <i>any</i> last night?" inquired +Tilly, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean you think it must have +taken all night to learn all that," laughed Genevieve. +"But it didn't."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you know some more, now," hazarded +Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. After we strike Jupiter Light, we +veer off into the Atlantic out of sight of land."</p> + +<p>"I thought lighthouses were put up so you +wouldn't 'strike' them," observed Tilly, with +smooth politeness; "but then, of course if you do +strike them, it is quite to be expected that you veer +off into the Atlantic, and never see land again. Besides, +I found all those lighthouses and things on a +paper last night, but it was the southern trip that +did all that. Maybe we, going north, don't do the +same things at all. I sha'n't swallow all you say, +anyhow, till I know for sure."</p> + +<p>"Children, stop your quarreling," commanded +Bertha Brown, sternly. "Now I've been learning +something worth while. <i>I</i> know the saloon deck +from the promenade deck, and I can rattle off +'fore' and 'aft' and 'port' and 'starboard' as +if I'd been born on shipboard!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! You wait," teased Tilly. "There'll +come a time when you won't think you're born on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +shipboard, and you won't know or care which is +fore or aft—any of you. And it will come soon, +too. Those were porpoises playing this morning—when +Cordelia thought she saw the sea serpent, +you know. I heard a man say he thought it meant +a storm was coming. And if it does—you just +wait," she finished laughingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm waiting," retorted Bertha. "I like +waiting. Besides, I don't think it's coming, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>But it did come. Off the coast of South Carolina +they ran into a heavy storm, and the great ship +creaked and groaned as it buffeted wind and +wave.</p> + +<p>In the little parlor of the suite the entire party, +banished from wet, slippery decks, made merry together, +and declared it was all fun, anyway. But +gradually the ranks thinned. First Mrs. Kennedy +asked to be excused, and went into the bedroom. +Alma Lane went away next. She said she wanted +a drink of water—but she did not return, and very +soon Elsie Martin, looking suspiciously white about +the lips, said she guessed she would go and find +Alma. She, too, did not return.</p> + +<p>Tilly went next. Tilly, naturally, had not been +her usual self since the accident, in spite of her +brave attempts to hide her suffering. She slipped +away now without a word; though just before she +had made them all laugh by saying a little shakily:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I declare, I wish Reddy were here! He'd think +he was riding his broncho, sure."</p> + +<p>Just when Mr. Hartley disappeared, no one +seemed to know. One moment he had been singing +lustily "Pull for the Shore"; the next moment he +was gone. There was left then only Bertha with +Genevieve and Cordelia in the little parlor; and +certainly the last two were anything but sorry when +Bertha rose a little precipitately to go, too, saying:</p> + +<p>"I—I think, Genevieve, if you don't mind, I'll +go and take off my shoes. They sort of—hurt +me."</p> + +<p>"Honestly, Cordelia," moaned Genevieve, when +they had the room to themselves, "I reckon we're +not caring just now, whether we're fore or aft!"</p> + +<p>It was not really a serious storm, after all, and +not any of the party was seriously ill. They were all +on deck again, indeed, smiling and happy, even if a +little white-faced, long before the journey was +ended.</p> + +<p>It was during the very last of the "golden +hours" that Tilly, her eyes on Bartholdi's wonderful +Statue of Liberty just ahead of them, in the +New York Bay, choked:</p> + +<p>"I declare, I'd just like to give that lady our +Texas yell. Only think, girls, our Texas trip is +almost over!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>HERMIT JOE</h3> + + +<p>There was not quite so large a crowd at the +Sunbridge station to welcome the Texas travelers +as there had been to see them off; but it was fully +large enough to give a merry cheer of greeting, as +the train pulled into the little station.</p> + +<p>"They're all here, with their 'sisters and their +cousins and their aunts,'" laughed Tilly, stooping +to look through the window as she passed down the +narrow aisle behind Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"I should say they were," answered Genevieve +a little wistfully. "We haven't got any one, I'm +afraid, though. Miss Jane's been 'down in Maine,' +as you call it, visiting, and she doesn't come till next +week."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you have," chuckled Tilly, as she +caught sight of an eager face in the crowd. +"There's Harold Day."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! He didn't come to welcome me any more +than he did the rest of you," retorted Genevieve +severely, as she neared the door.</p> + +<p>And what a confusion and chatter it all was, when +"their sisters and their cousins and their aunts"—to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +say nothing of their fathers and mothers and +brothers—all talked and laughed at once, each trying +to be first to kiss and hug the <i>one</i> returning +traveler, before bestowing almost as cordial a welcome +on all the others. At last, however, in little +family groups, afoot or in carriages, the crowd +began to leave the station, and Genevieve found +herself with Mrs. Kennedy in the family carriage +with the old coachman sitting sedately up in front. +Mr. Hartley had left the party in New York, after +seeing them safely aboard their Boston train.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's all over," sighed Genevieve, happily, +"and hasn't it been just lovely—with nothing but +poor Tilly's arm to regret!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it certainly has been a beautiful trip, my +dear, and I know every one has enjoyed it very +much. And now comes—school."</p> + +<p>Genevieve made a wry face; then, meeting Mrs. +Kennedy's reproving eye, she colored.</p> + +<p>"There, forgive me, Aunt Julia, please. That +wasn't nice of me, of course, when you're so good +as to let me come another year. But school is so +tiresome!"</p> + +<p>"Tiresome! Oh, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is, Aunt Julia," sighed the girl.</p> + +<p>"But I thought you liked it now, dear. You took +hold of it so bravely at the last." Mrs. Kennedy's +eyes were wistful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course I wanted to pass and go on with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +the rest of the girls, Aunt Julia. I couldn't help +wanting that. But as for really <i>liking</i> it—I +couldn't like it, you know; just study, study, study +all day in hot, poky rooms, when it's so much nicer +out of doors!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy shook her head. Her eyes were +troubled.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, my dear, that this trip <i>hasn't</i> helped +any. I was fearful that it wouldn't be easy for you +to settle down after such a prolonged playday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I shall settle, Aunt Julia, I shall settle," +promised Genevieve with a merry smile. "I know +I've got to settle—but I can't say yet I shall like +it," she finished, as the carriage turned in at the +broad driveway, and Nancy and Bridget were seen +to be waiting in respectful excitement to welcome +them.</p> + +<p>There would be five days to "get used to it"—as +Genevieve expressed it—before school began; +but long before noon of the first of those five days, +Genevieve had planned in her mind enough delightful +things to occupy twice that number of days. Immediately +after dinner, too, came something quite +unexpected in the shape of a call from Cordelia.</p> + +<p>Cordelia looked worried.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, I've come to ask a favor, please. +I'm sure I don't know as you'll want to do it, but—but +I want you to go with me to see Hermit Joe."</p> + +<p>"To see—<i>Hermit Joe!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O dear, I knew you'd exclaim out," sighed Cordelia; +"but it's just got to be done. I suppose I +ought not to have told you, anyway, but I couldn't +bear to go up to that dismal place alone," she finished, +tearfully.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course not, dear; and I'm sure you +did just right to tell me," soothed Genevieve, in +quick response to the tears in Cordelia's eyes. +"Now wait while I get my hat and ask Aunt Julia. +She'll let me go, I know;—she'd let me go to—to +London, with <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Just please say it's an errand—an important +one," begged Cordelia, nervously, as Genevieve +darted into the house.</p> + +<p>In two minutes the girl had returned, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me all about it," she commanded, +"and don't look so frightened. Hermit Joe isn't +cross. He's only solemn and queer. He won't hurt +us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he won't hurt us," sighed the other. +"He'll only look more solemn and queer."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because of what I've got to tell him. I—I +suppose I ought to have written it, but I just +couldn't. Besides, I hadn't found out anything, and +so I didn't want to write until I was sure I couldn't +find anything. Now it's done, and I haven't found +out anything. So I've got to tell him."</p> + +<p>"Tell him what, Cordelia?" demanded Genevieve,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +a little impatiently. "How do you suppose +I can make anything out of that kind of talk?"</p> + +<p>"O dear! you can't, of course," sighed Cordelia; +"and, of course, if I've told you so much I +must tell the rest. It's Hermit Joe's son. I can't +find him."</p> + +<p>"His son! I didn't know he had a son."</p> + +<p>"He has. His name is John. He ran away to +Texas twenty years ago."</p> + +<p>"And you've been hunting for <i>him</i>, too—besides +that Lester Goodwin who turned out to be Reddy?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia nodded. She did not speak.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Of all the funny things I ever heard of! Pray, +how many more lost people have you been looking +for in the little state of Texas?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia moved her shoulders uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I—I'd rather not tell that, please, Genevieve," +she stammered, with a painful blush.</p> + +<p>Genevieve stared dumbly. She had not supposed +for a moment that Cordelia had been looking for +any more lost people. She had asked the question +merely as an absurdity. To have it taken now in +this literal fashion, and evidently with good reason—Genevieve +could scarcely believe the evidence of +her senses. Another laugh was almost on her lips, +but the real distress in Cordelia's face stopped it in +time.</p> + +<p>"You poor dear little thing," she cried sympathetically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +"What a shame to bother you so! I +wonder you had any fun at all on the trip."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I did, Genevieve! You don't know how +beautiful it all was to me—only of course I felt +sorry to be such a failure in what folks wanted me +to do. You see, Reddy was the only one I found, +and I'm very much worried for fear he won't be +satisfactory."</p> + +<p>Genevieve did laugh this time.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he isn't, I don't see how that can be +your fault," she retorted. "Come, now let's forget +all this, and just talk Texas instead."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary says I do do that—all the time," +rejoined Cordelia, with a wistful smile. "Aunt +Sophronia is there, too, and <i>she</i> says I do. Still, +she likes to hear it, I verily believe, else she wouldn't +ask me so many questions," concluded Cordelia, lifting +her chin a little.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to take Miss Jane there sometime," +observed Genevieve, with a gravity that was a little +unnatural.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Cordelia—then she +stopped short with a hot blush. "I—I beg your +pardon, I'm sure, Genevieve," she went on stammeringly. +"I ought not to have spoken that way, +of course. I was only thinking of Miss Jane and—and +the cowboys that day they welcomed us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," rejoined Genevieve, her lips +puckered into a curious little smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'm doing any more talking, +anyway, than Tilly is," remarked Cordelia, after a +moment's silence. "Of course, Tilly, with her poor +arm, would make a lot of questions, anyway; but +she <i>is</i> talking a great deal."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is," chuckled Genevieve, "and we +all know what <i>she'll</i> say."</p> + +<p>"But she says such absurd things, Genevieve. +Why, Charlie Brown—you know he calls us the +'Happy <i>Tex</i>agons' now—well, he told me that +Tilly'd been bragging so terribly about Texas, +and all the fine things there were there, that he asked +her this morning real soberly—you know how +Charlie Brown <i>can</i> ask questions, sometimes—"</p> + +<p>"I know," nodded Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Well, he asked her, solemn as a judge, 'Do +these wondrous tamales of yours grow on trees +down there?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, yes,' Tilly assured him serenely. And +when Charlie, of course, declared that couldn't be, +she just shrugged her shoulders and answered: +'Well, of course, Charlie, I'll own I didn't <i>see</i> +tamales growing on trees, but Texas is a very large +state, and while I didn't, of course, see anywhere +near all of it, yet I saw so much, and it was all so +different from each other, that I'm sure I shouldn't +want to say that I <i>knew</i> they didn't have tamale +trees somewhere in Texas!' And then she +marched off in that stately way of hers, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +Charlie declared he began to feel as if tamale trees +did grow in Texas, and that he ought to go around +telling folks so."</p> + +<p>"What a girl she is!" laughed Genevieve. +"But, Cordelia, she isn't all nonsense. We found +that out that dreadful night of the accident."</p> + +<p>"Indeed we did," agreed Cordelia, loyally; +then, with a profound sigh she added: "O dear! +for a minute I'd actually forgotten—Hermit Joe."</p> + +<p>Hermit Joe lived far up the hillside in a little hut +surrounded by thick woods. A tiny path led to his +door, but it was seldom trodden by the foot of anybody +but of Hermit Joe himself—Hermit Joe did +not encourage visitors, and visitors certainly were +not attracted by Hermit Joe's stern reticence on all +matters concerning himself and every one else.</p> + +<p>To-day, as the girls entered the path at the edge +of the woods, the sun went behind a passing cloud, +and the gloom was even more noticeable than usual.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! I'm glad Hermit Joe <i>isn't</i> dangerous +and <i>doesn't</i> bite," whispered Genevieve, peering into +the woods on either side. "Aunt Julia says he is +really a very estimable man—Cordelia, if I was a +man I just wouldn't be an 'estimable' one."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve!" gasped the shocked Cordelia.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd <i>be</i> it, of course, my dear, only I wouldn't +want to be <i>called</i> it. It's the word—it always +makes me think of side whiskers and stupidity."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve!" cried Cordelia, again.</p> + +<p>"Well, as I was saying, Aunt Julia told me that +Hermit Joe was really a very nice man. She used +to know him well before a great sorrow drove him +into the woods to live all by himself."</p> + +<p>Cordelia nodded sadly.</p> + +<p>"That was his son that ran away. Aunt Mary +told me that long ago. She told us children never +to tease him, or worry him, but that we needn't be +afraid of him, either. He wouldn't hurt us. I +heard once that he was always stern and sober, and +that that was why his son ran away. But that it +'most killed him—the father—when he did go. +And now I couldn't find him! Isn't it terrible, +Genevieve?" Cordelia's eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes," sighed Genevieve. "But you aren't to +blame, dear."</p> + +<p>It was very beautiful in the hushed green light +of the woods, with now and then a bird-call, or the +swift scampering of a squirrel's feet to break the +silence. But the girls were not noticing birds or +squirrels to-day, and they became more and more +silent as they neared the end of their journey. +The little cabin was almost in sight when Genevieve +caught Cordelia's arm convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Cordelia, sh-h-h! Isn't that some one—talking?" +she whispered.</p> + +<p>Cordelia held her right foot suspended in the air +for a brief half minute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. That's Hermit Joe's voice. He <i>is</i> talking +to some one."</p> + +<p>"Then there must be somebody there with him."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Genevieve, I—I <i>guess</i> I won't tell him +to-day," faltered Cordelia. "Let's go back. I'll +come again to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Go back, and have you worrying +about this thing another twenty-four hours? No, +indeed! Come, Cordelia, we must tell him now. +I think we ought to do it, really."</p> + +<p>"All right," sighed the other despairingly. +"Come, then." The next minute she gave a sharp +cry. "Why, Mr. <i>Edwards!</i>" she breathed.</p> + +<p>They had come to the turn which brought the +cabin into plain sight; and on the stone step with +Hermit Joe sat the man Cordelia had last seen +driving away from the Six Star Ranch in Texas.</p> + +<p>Both men rose abruptly. The younger stepped +forward. There was a whimsical smile on his lips, +but his eyes were wonderfully tender.</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'Mr. Edwards,' Miss Cordelia—but Mr. +'Jonathan Edwards <i>Sanborn</i>.' You see, you didn't +know all my name, perhaps."</p> + +<p>To every one's surprise and consternation Cordelia +sat down exactly where she was, and began +to cry softly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cordelia!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve was at her friend's side at once. Hermit +Joe looked plainly distressed. Mr. Jonathan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Edwards Sanborn hurried forward in frightened +dismay.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Miss Cordelia, don't, please don't—I +beg of you! Don't you understand? I am John +Sanborn, Hermit Joe's son; and 'twas all through +you that I came home again."</p> + +<p>Cordelia only sobbed the harder.</p> + +<p>Genevieve dropped on her knees at the girl's side, +and put her arms about her.</p> + +<p>"Cordelia, Cordelia, dear—don't you see?—it's +all come out right. You did find him, after +all! Why are you crying so?"</p> + +<p>"T-that's why," stuttered Cordelia, smiling +through tear-wet eyes. "It's because I d-did find +him, and I'm so glad, and everything!"</p> + +<p>"But, if you're glad, why cry?" began Hermit +Joe's son, in puzzled wonder, but Genevieve patted +Cordelia's back, and smiled cheerily.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Cordelia," she declared. "I +know just how you feel. <i>Now</i> you know what was +the matter with me when you girls gave me the +Texas yell at the station. Just cry all you like!"</p> + +<p>As if permission, only, were all she wanted, Cordelia +wiped her eyes and smiled shyly into Mr. +Jonathan Edwards Sanborn's face.</p> + +<p>"It is really you, isn't it?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"It certainly is, Miss Cordelia."</p> + +<p>"And you wouldn't have come if it hadn't been +for what I said?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. You set me to thinking, and when I got +to thinking I couldn't stop. And, of course, when +I couldn't stop thinking I had to come; that's all."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," sighed Cordelia; then, interestedly: +"How long have you been here?"</p> + +<p>"Only since day before yesterday. No one in +the village knows I'm here, I suspect. We've been +talking over our plans—father and I. I want him +to come West with me."</p> + +<p>Cordelia got up from the ground.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," she said again, simply. "Genevieve, +I think we ought to be going."</p> + +<p>As she turned toward the path, Hermit Joe advanced +so that he intercepted her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Cordelia, I would like to tell how—but +I can't. Still—I wish you could know how happy +you've made me."</p> + +<p>Hermit Joe spoke with evident difficulty. His +lips, so long unused to speaking, stumbled over the +words; but his eyes glowed as with hidden fires, +and his whole face was alight with joy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW BOY</h3> + + +<p>The first day of school, for Genevieve, was not +a success. Before two hours of it had passed, indeed, +she declared to herself that Miss Hart, her +new teacher, was not at all promising, and that +she did not like her nearly so well as she had liked +Miss Palmer the year before. Making the final +arrangements as to her studies and recitations, too, +Genevieve privately voted a bore; and more than +once her eyes turned longingly to the beautiful September +sunshine out of doors.</p> + +<p>At recess time the Happy Hexagons met in the +corridor and held what proved to be an indignation +meeting.</p> + +<p>"Well, I for one don't like her a bit," declared +Tilly, perking up the bow ends of the black sling +that hung about her neck.</p> + +<p>"Nor I," echoed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Not much like Miss Palmer last year, nor Miss +Jones," said Bertha. "I told you we wouldn't get +such a good one this term."</p> + +<p>"But, girls, I think we ought to try to like her," +ventured Cordelia, in a voice that told very plainly +how she expected her remark to be received.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course," sniffed Tilly, disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I'm sure she won't be half bad when +we come to know her," cried Alma Lane. "She +was so nervous this morning, and I think acted +troubled over something."</p> + +<p>Tilly tossed her head.</p> + +<p>"Troubled! I should think we were the ones +that were troubled. Did you ever see such a lot of +rules and regulations about what not to do? She's +scarcely left a thing we <i>can</i> do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she has," groaned Genevieve. "We +can sit still and look pleasant, and study, study, +study! I reckon I shall have to, all right, too, this +term, at the rate my studies and recitation hours +are piling up," she finished, as the bell rang for +them to go to their seats.</p> + +<p>All days—even the worst of them—come to +an end sometime; and at last Genevieve was free +to go home. Half-way to the Kennedy house a +soft whistle of the Happy Hexagons' Club song +sounded behind her; and a moment later Harold +Day caught up with her.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"But it isn't 'well' at all," wailed Genevieve, +with a shake of her head.</p> + +<p>"So I judged from your face."</p> + +<p>"But—have <i>you</i> ever had Miss Hart for a +teacher?"</p> + +<p>"No; she's new this year. We had Miss Holbrook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +in her place last year, and she was fine; but +she got married, you know. She herself recommended +Miss Hart for the position, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Did she?" sighed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"What a lugubrious face!" laughed Harold. +"Suppose you tell me what is the matter with Miss +Hart, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I can't. It's just an intangible, indefinable +'don't-like-her' feeling. She doesn't sit still a +minute, and she's awful on rules. Tilly calls her +'Miss Hartless.'"</p> + +<p>Harold laughed.</p> + +<p>"Trust Tilly to call her something!" he rejoined. +"But I don't believe the lady will be half +bad when you get used to her."</p> + +<p>"That's what your cousin Alma says."</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe she's right," declared Harold. +"It sounds to me as if Miss Hart were nervous +and afraid."</p> + +<p>Genevieve opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Afraid! A <i>teacher afraid!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you be afraid if you had to follow +where you know there had been such favorites as +Miss Holbrook and Miss Palmer were?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I never thought of it that way," frowned +Genevieve. "I didn't suppose teachers ever had—er—feelings +like that."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose teachers are—folks, like the +rest of us," hazarded the youth, as he stopped a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +minute at the foot of the Kennedys' front +walk.</p> + +<p>Genevieve shook her head mischievously.</p> + +<p>"I don't," she protested. "They always seem +to me like things you buy for school, just like you +do the books and chalk, and that they come in boxes +all graded and sorted—primary, grammar, high +school, French, German, and all that," she flashed +over her shoulder, as she skipped up the walk +toward the house.</p> + +<p>"There!" sighed Genevieve, bounding up on to +the veranda, and dropping her books into a chair. +"I'm going for a ride with Tilly, Aunt Julia, please, +if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear; but don't stay too long. +There's your practicing, you know."</p> + +<p>Genevieve scowled, and made an impatient gesture—neither +of which Mrs. Kennedy seemed to +notice.</p> + +<p>"You have your watch, I see," she went on +serenely; "so I don't think you'll forget."</p> + +<p>Genevieve bit her lip. She threw a hurried +glance into Mrs. Kennedy's face; but that, too, +Mrs. Kennedy did not appear to notice.</p> + +<p>"No, Aunt Julia," said Genevieve, a little constrainedly, +as she went to saddle her horse, "I +sha'n't—forget."</p> + +<p>When quite by herself around the corner of the +house, she drew a long breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sometimes," she muttered fiercely behind her +teeth, "sometimes I—I just wish folks <i>weren't</i> +so good to me! Seems to me I just <i>can't</i> waste +a whole hour of this tiny little bit of glorious day +that is left, practising a stupid old 'one, two—one, +two—one, two!'" Then, with apparent irrelevance, +she patted her blue-and-gold chatelaine +watch remorsefully—and it may be noted right +here that she came back in ample time for her hour +of practising before supper.</p> + +<p>There was a new boy at school the next morning. +This fact in itself did not particularly interest the +Happy Hexagons until they learned his name. It +was "O. B. J. Holmes." When the initials did not +seem quite to satisfy Miss Hart, he hesitated visibly, +then said, with a very painful blush, that the "O" +might be put down "Oliver." It was plainly on +the teacher's tongue to ask about the other letters; +but, after a moment's hesitation, she passed over +the matter, and turned to something else.</p> + +<p>As usual the Happy Hexagons found themselves +together at recess time, and as was natural, perhaps, +the subject of the new boy came up for discussion.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe 'Oliver' is ever his name," declared +Tilly, stoutly. "No sane youth in his right +mind would blush so beautifully over just 'Oliver.' +Besides, he didn't <i>say</i> it was Oliver."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 292px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.jpg" width="292" height="400" alt=""'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. OLIVER HOLMES,' SHE BEGAN"" title=""'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. OLIVER HOLMES,' SHE BEGAN"" /> +<span class="caption">"'HOW DO YOU DO, MR. OLIVER HOLMES,' SHE BEGAN"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I saw Miss Hart talking to him as I came out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +just now," announced Bertha, "and his face was +even redder than ever. Hers was getting red, too."</p> + +<p>"Then there <i>is</i> something," cried Genevieve, excitedly, +"and it's a mystery. I love mysteries! +'O. B. J.'—what a really funny set of letters!"</p> + +<p>"Must be 'Oliver Ben Johnson,'" laughed +Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Sounds to me like 'O Be Joyful,'" giggled +Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h!—Tilly!" warned Cordelia, in a horrified +whisper. "He's coming. He'll hear you!"</p> + +<p>But Tilly was not to be silenced. Tilly, for some +reason, felt recklessly mischievous that morning.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course his, name is 'O Be Joyful,'" +she cried in gay, shrill tones that carried the words +straight to the ears of a rather awkward-appearing +boy coming toward them. "How could it be anything else?"</p> + +<p>The boy blushed hotly. For a moment it seemed +as if he would stop and speak; but the next minute +he had turned away his face, and was passing them +hurriedly.</p> + +<p>It was then that the unexpected happened. With +a quick little impulsive movement, Genevieve stepped +to the new boy's side, and held out a frankly cordial +hand.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Oliver Holmes," she began +breathlessly, but with hurried determination. +"I am Genevieve Hartley, and I'd like to welcome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +you to our school. These are my friends: Cordelia +Wilson, Alma Lane, Bertha Brown, Elsie Martin, +and Tilly Mack. We hope you'll soon get acquainted +and feel at home here," she finished, her +face almost as painful a red as was the boy's.</p> + +<p>O. B. J. Holmes clutched Genevieve's hand, +stammered a confused something in response to the +introductions, and flung a terrifiedly uncertain bow +in the direction of the wide-eyed girls; then he +turned and fled precipitately.</p> + +<p>Behind him he left, for one brief minute, a dazed +silence before Tilly lifted her chin disagreeably and +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear me! For so <i>marked</i> a bid for his +favor, seems to me our young friend doesn't show +proper appreciation—to run away like that!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve colored angrily.</p> + +<p>"That was no bid for his favor, and you know +it, Tilly Mack!"</p> + +<p>"No?" teased Tilly, hatefully. "Well, I'm sure +I should have thought it was if a perfect stranger +flung herself in my way like that."</p> + +<p>"Tilly, Tilly—don't!" begged Cordelia, almost +tearfully.</p> + +<p>It was Genevieve's turn to lift a disdainful chin. +She eyed Tilly scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you wouldn't—not if some other perfect +stranger had just called out a particularly hateful, +horrid joke about something you were not in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +the least to blame for! If you hadn't said what you +did, I shouldn't have said what I did, Tilly Mack. +As it was, I—I just couldn't help it; I was so +sorry for him!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was just being sorry, then! Oh, excuse +me; I didn't know," cooed Tilly, smoothly. "You +see, it looked so—different!"</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia. "Genevieve, don't +you mind one bit what she says!" But Genevieve, +without a word, had turned and was walking swiftly +away.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tilly Mack," chorused several indignant +voices; and Elsie Martin added severely: "I've +got my opinion of <i>you</i>—after all Genevieve has +just done for us! I'm sure, I think it was lovely of +her to speak to that boy like that!"</p> + +<p>Tilly flushed uncomfortably. Her tongue had +gone much farther than she had intended it to go. +She did not like to think, either, of that Texas trip +just then. But the very shame that she felt made +her only the more determined not to show it—then.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! there wasn't a thing I said that anybody +need to make such a fuss about," she declared +loftily; then, as she spied Harold Day coming +toward them, she called in a merry voice: "Seen +the new boy, Harold? His name is 'O. B. J. +Holmes.' <i>I</i> say his name is 'O Be Joyful,' and the +girls are shocked at my disrespect."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is that so?" laughed Harold. "Well, I'm not +sure I'd like that name myself very well—even if +'tis a cheerful one! Where's Genevieve? One +doesn't often see one of you without all of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was here, but she's gone. She was the +most shocked of all," answered Tilly, with mock +humility. "Probably she's gone to tell him so. +You see, she shook hands with him and introduced +us all around, and said she'd like to welcome him +and that she hoped he'd enjoy it here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tilly!" remonstrated Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cordelia, didn't she?" asked Tilly, in a +particularly innocent tone of voice.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," admitted Cordelia, reluctantly, +"only—" The bell rang and the group broke +up, with Cordelia's sentence still unfinished.</p> + +<p>The rest of the day for the Happy Hexagons +was not an easy one. Tilly looked rebellious—and +ashamed. Cordelia looked ready to cry. Genevieve +kept her eyes on her books and seemed unaware +that there was such a thing in the world +as a girls' club, of which she was a prominent member. +Bertha, Elsie, and Alma divided their time +between scowling at Tilly and trying to attract +Genevieve's attention.</p> + +<p>It was during the Latin recitation, which came +just before closing time at noon, that Cordelia's +perturbation culminated in a blunder that sent +most of the class into convulsive giggles, and even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +brought a twitching smile to Genevieve's tense +lips.</p> + +<p>Cordelia, rising to translate in her turn, hurried +blindly through a paragraph until she came to the +words "sub jugum". Now Cordelia very well +knew what "sub jugum" meant; but her eyes, at +the moment, were divided between her book and +Genevieve's flushed cheeks, and so saw, apparently, +but half of the word "jugum". At all events, the +next moment the class were amazed to learn from +Cordelia's lips that Cæsar sent the army—not +"under the yoke" as was expected—but "under +the jug."</p> + +<p>Cordelia knew, before the titters of the class told +her, what she had said; and with hot blushes she +made a hasty correction. But to Cordelia, usually +so conscientiously accurate and circumspect, the +thing was a tragedy, and, as such, would not soon +be forgotten by her. She knew, too, that the class +would not let her forget it even could she herself +do so. If she had doubted this, she did not doubt +it longer, after school was dismissed, for she was +assailed on all sides by a merry bombardment of +gibes and questions as to just what sort of jug it +was, anyhow, under which Cæsar sent his army.</p> + +<p>Genevieve, only, had nothing to say. She did +not, indeed, even glance toward Cordelia. With +averted face she hurried through the corridor and +out the street door alone. In the yard a quick step<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +behind her overtook her, and she found herself +looking into the flushed, agitated face of the new +boy.</p> + +<p>O. B. J. Holmes would not, at first sight, be called +a good-looking youth. His face was freckled, and +his nose was rather large. But his mouth was well-shaped, +and his eyes were large and expressive. +They looked into Genevieve's now with a gaze that +was clear and honest and manly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Genevieve, may I walk with you a little +way, please?" he asked with disarming directness. +"I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Why, of—of course," stammered Genevieve. +Then she colored painfully: behind her she heard +Tilly's laughing voice, followed by Alma's lower +one, and Harold's.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to thank you for what you did this +morning," began O. B. J. Holmes, falling into step +with her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that wasn't—wasn't anything," stammered +Genevieve, nervously, still acutely conscious of the +eyes that she knew were behind her.</p> + +<p>The boy smiled a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, to you," he answered; "but if +you'd been named 'O Be Joyful' and had had to +suffer for it as I have, you'd think it was something."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say your name <i>is</i> 'O Be +Joyful'!" gasped Genevieve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>He nodded, his face showing a deeper red.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I wanted to tell you. I didn't +feel square not to have you know it, after you stood +up so bravely for 'Oliver'. Of course, if you like, +you may tell the rest. I suppose I was foolish to +try to keep it to myself, anyway," he sighed moodily.</p> + +<p>"Tell it! Of course I sha'n't tell it," declared +Genevieve, warmly. She had forgotten all about +those watching eyes behind her, now.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," smiled the boy again, a little wistfully. +"Miss Hart knows it, of course. I told her +at recess; and the principal, Mr. Jackson, knows it. +He agreed to letting me be called 'Oliver,' and so +does Miss Hart. Still, I don't suppose I can keep +it, and it will get out. I—I supposed it had got +out when I heard your friend this morning."</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't out, and nobody knows it—but +me," declared Genevieve, with more warmth than +grammar. "That was only some of Tilly Mack's +nonsense; and when you know her better, you'll +know that nobody pays any attention to what Tilly +says." Genevieve stopped abruptly, and bit her lip. +She was thinking that not so very long before, she +herself <i>had</i> paid attention to something Tilly Mack +said.</p> + +<p>"I don't think mother ever realized just what +such a name would be for a fellow to carry through +life," said the boy, after a moment's silence. +"There were five of us children, and she gave us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +all queer names—names that expressed something +that had just been happening in the family, you understand. +For instance, my oldest brother was born +in a year when the crops failed, and they called him +'Tribulation.' Crops were good, you see, when I +came," he added, with a rueful smile.</p> + +<p>"Why, how—how funny and—and terrible," +breathed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was terrible—but mother never thought +of it that way, I'm sure. I'm glad she can't know—now—just +how hard it's been for me. When +I came here, I knew I was a perfect stranger and +I determined folks shouldn't know. I'd be 'Oliver +B. J. Holmes.'"</p> + +<p>"And you shall be 'Oliver B. J. Holmes,'" +averred Genevieve, lifting her chin. "Oh, of course +Tilly will call you the other, and maybe some of the +rest will, sometimes; but don't let that fret you for +a moment. Just remember that <i>no one knows</i>—for +I sha'n't tell it. And now good-by. This is my +street," she finished, with a cheery nod.</p> + +<p>It was not easy for Genevieve to go back to the +short session of school that afternoon; but she went—and +she tried to appear as if everything was as +usual when she met Cordelia and Elsie at the corner. +Cordelia and Elsie were only too glad to follow her +lead. Not until they met Tilly in the school yard—and +saw her turn hastily away without speaking—did +they show how really constrained they felt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>Genevieve, apparently, saw and felt nothing of +this—but she never looked toward Tilly that afternoon; +and when school was dismissed she hurried +cheerfully away with only a smiling nod toward +Cordelia and Alma, whom she passed in the corridor.</p> + +<p>At home Genevieve went immediately to her +practising—somewhat to Mrs. Kennedy's surprise. +She practised, too, quite fifteen minutes over her +hour—still more to Mrs. Kennedy's surprise. +There was, also, a certain unsympathetic hardness +in the chords and runs that puzzled the lady not a +little; but in the face of their obvious accuracy, +and of Genevieve's apparent faithfulness, Mrs. +Kennedy did not like to find fault.</p> + +<p>Just how long Genevieve would have practised is +doubtful, perhaps, had there not sounded an insistently +repeated whistle of the Hexagon Club song +from the garden. The girl went to the open window +then.</p> + +<p>"Did you whistle, Harold?" she asked, not too +graciously.</p> + +<p>"Did I whistle?" retorted the boy, testily. "Oh, +no, I never whistled <i>once</i>—but I did four times! +See here, I thought your practice-hour was an +<i>hour</i>."</p> + +<p>"It is."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've been working fifteen minutes over-time +already."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have; and your constitution positively +needs a walk. Come, it's your plain duty to your +health. Will you go?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve dimpled into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"All right," she cried more naturally. "Then +I'll come. I'll be out in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>"Let's go up through the pasture to the woods," +proposed Harold, when Genevieve appeared, swinging +her hat.</p> + +<p>"All right," nodded Genevieve, somewhat listlessly. +"Anywhere."</p> + +<p>In the woods, some time later, Genevieve and +Harold dropped themselves down to rest. It was +then that Harold cleared his throat a little nervously.</p> + +<p>"You have a new boy in school, I hear," he +said.</p> + +<p>Genevieve turned quickly. For a moment she +looked almost angry. Then, unexpectedly, she +laughed.</p> + +<p>"You've been talking with Tilly, I perceive," +she remarked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; Tilly has only been talking with me," +retorted Harold, laughing in his turn—though a +little constrainedly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve grew suddenly sober.</p> + +<p>"I don't care; I'm glad I did it," she declared. +"You know <i>what</i> Tilly can be when she wants to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +be—and she evidently wanted to be, this morning. +Just because a boy is new and has got freckles and +a queer name, is no reason why he should be made +fun of like that."</p> + +<p>"Of course not!" Then, still a little constrainedly, +Harold asked: "How do you like him? I +saw you talking with him afterward."</p> + +<p>Genevieve frowned thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Why, I don't know—I hadn't thought," she +answered. "But I reckon perhaps I like him. He +talked quite a little, and he seemed rather nice, I +think—just frank and folksy, you know. Yes, I +think I like him. I think we'll all like him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," agreed Harold without enthusiasm, +getting suddenly to his feet. "Well, I suppose +we must be going."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," sighed Genevieve, glancing +down at her little blue-enamel watch; "but it <i>is</i> +nice here!"</p> + +<p>The homeward walk was somewhat of a silent +one. Harold was unusually quiet, and Genevieve +was wondering just how and when peace and happiness +were to reign once more in the Hexagon Club. +She was wondering, too, if ever she could be just +the same to Tilly—unless Tilly had first something +to say to her.</p> + +<p>As it happened, Genevieve's questions were answered, +in a way, before she slept; for, after she +had gone up to bed that night, there came a ring at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +the doorbell, followed, a moment later, by a tap at +her door.</p> + +<p>"It do be a note for you, Miss Genevieve," explained +Nancy.</p> + +<p>"A note—for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss; from Miss Tilly, I think. She's +down at the door with her brother."</p> + +<p>Genevieve did not answer. Her eyes were devouring +the note.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Genevieve</span>:—" Tilly had written. "I'm +so ashamed I just can't live till you tell me you forgive +me. I have begged Howard to take me down +there. I know I never, never can sleep till I've +asked your pardon for being so perfectly horrid +this morning. Will you ever, ever forgive and love +me again?</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"Your miserable, remorseful</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Tilly</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<p>"P. S. I think what you did was just the bravest, +loveliest thing I ever saw a girl do.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">t. m.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"P. S. again. I'm so late I'm afraid you've +gone to bed; but if you haven't, and if you do forgive +me, come to your window and wave to me. I +shall watch with what Quentina would call soulful, +hungry eyes.</p> + +<div class='sig'> +"<span class="smcap">t.</span>"<br /> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's all right; thank you, Nancy. There +isn't any answer," smiled Genevieve as she closed +the door. The next moment she darted across the +room, plucked a great pink aster from the vase on +the table, hurried to the window and threw up the +screen.</p> + +<p>Below she saw the automobile and the two figures +therein. Faintly visible, too, was the upturned face +of the girl, containing, presumably, the "hungry, +soulful eyes."</p> + +<p>The next moment, plump into Tilly's lap, fell a +huge pink aster.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>GENEVIEVE LEARNS SOMETHING NOT IN BOOKS</h3> + + +<p>School, in an amazingly short time, fell into its +customary routine. Genevieve, it is true, did not +cease to pine for long, free hours out of doors; but +with as good grace as she could muster she submitted +to the inevitable.</p> + +<p>Miss Hart was still not a favorite in the school, +and no one seemed to realize this more keenly than +did Miss Hart herself. At all events, as the days +passed, she grew thinner and paler looking, and +more nervous and worried in her manner. While +none of the Happy Hexagons deliberately set herself +to making trouble, certainly none of them tried +to cause matters to be any easier for her. The +girls themselves had long since forgotten their brief +day of unpleasantness regarding O. B. J. Holmes, +and were more devoted than ever, after this, their +first quarrel.</p> + +<p>In the Kennedy home, too, matters had settled +into their usual routine. Miss Jane had returned, +and the days, for Genevieve, were full of study, +practice, and the usual number of lessons in cooking +and sewing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the crisp October days came, every pleasant +Saturday afternoon found the Hexagon Club off +for a long walk or ride, sometimes by themselves, +sometimes with Harold, Charlie, O. B. J. Holmes, +or some of the other boys and girls as invited guests.</p> + +<p>O. B. J. Holmes had long since ceased to be the +"new boy." He was not, indeed, exactly a favorite +with some of the young people, but he was included +frequently in their merrymakings—chiefly because +Genevieve declared openly that she thought he +ought to be. He was not called "Oliver" except +in the classroom. Outside he was known usually +as "O. B. J." slurred into "Obejay." Sometimes, +it is true, Tilly's old "O Be Joyful" was heard, +but not often—perhaps because the lad appeared +not to care if they did call him that, specially if +Genevieve were near to join in the good-natured +laugh with which he greeted it.</p> + +<p>Undeniably, this frank friendliness of the most +popular girl in school had much to do with the way +the others regarded him; though they were at a +loss, sometimes, to account for a certain quality in +that friendship, which they could not fathom.</p> + +<p>"It's for all the world as if you'd known each +other before," Harold explained it a little aggrievedly +one day to Genevieve, when O. B. J. +Holmes had just thrown her one of his merry +glances at a sudden revival of Tilly's "O Be Joyful" +name. "Say, <i>have</i> you known him before?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed—but she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No; but maybe I do know him now—a little +better than you do," she answered demurely, thinking +of the name that Harold did not even suspect.</p> + +<p>School this year, for Genevieve, was meaning +two new experiences. One was that for the first +time class officers were elected; the other, that a +school magazine was started. In both of these she +bore a prominent part. In the one she was unanimously +elected president; in the other she was +appointed correspondent for her class by the Editor-in-Chief. +By each, however, she was quite overwhelmed.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think I can do them—not either +of them," she declared to Mrs. Kennedy and Miss +Jane Chick when she had brought home the news. +"To be Class President you have to be awfully +dignified and conduct meetings and know parliamentary +law, and all that."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of anything <i>there</i> hurting you," +smiled Miss Jane. "In fact, it strikes me that it +will do you a great deal of good."</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, I suppose you would think so," smiled +Genevieve, a little dubiously.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure it's an honor," Mrs. Kennedy reminded +her.</p> + +<p>Genevieve flushed.</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> glad they wanted me," she admitted +frankly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what is this magazine affair?" asked Miss +Jane.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and that's another thing," sighed Genevieve. +"I can't write things. If it were only Quentina, +now—she could do it!"</p> + +<p>"But you have written for the Chronicles, my +dear," observed Mrs. Kennedy. "Have you given +those up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; we still keep them, only we have entries +once a week now instead of every day. There isn't +so much doing here as there was in Texas, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Then you do write for that," said Miss Jane.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but <i>that's</i> just for us," argued Genevieve. +"I don't mind that. But this has got to be printed, +Miss Jane—printed right out for everybody to +read! If it were only Quentina, now—she'd glory +in it. And—oh, Miss Jane, how I wish you could +see Quentina," broke off Genevieve, suddenly. +"Dear me! wouldn't she just hit on your name, +though! She'd be rhyming it in no time, and have +'Miss Jane at the window-pane,' before you could +turn around!"</p> + +<p>"Quite an inducement for me to know her, I'm +sure," observed Miss Jane, dryly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed, but she sighed again, too.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, she would do it lovely—this +correspondence business; but I can't, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"What are you supposed to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, just hand in things—anything that's of +interest in my class; but I don't know <i>what</i> to +say."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the others can help you," suggested +Aunt Julia.</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave a sudden laugh.</p> + +<p>"They'd like to—some of them. Tilly's tried +already. She gave me two items this noon, all +written down. One was that O. B. J. had a new +freckle on the left side of his nose, and the other +that Bertha hadn't said 'I told you so' to-day."</p> + +<p>"Genevieve!" protested the shocked Miss Jane. +"You wouldn't—" She stopped helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Miss Jane, I wouldn't," laughed Genevieve, +merrily, as she rose from the dinner-table.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was her duties as president, and her +new task as correspondent, or perhaps it was just +the allurement of the beautiful out-of-doors that +made it so hard for Genevieve to spend time on her +lessons that autumn. Perhaps, too, her lack of +enthusiasm for Miss Hart had something to do +with it. Whatever it was, to concentrate her attention +on Latin verbs and French nouns grew harder +and harder as the days passed, until at last—in +the frenzied rush of a study-hour one day—she +did what she had never done before: wrote the +meaning of some of the words under the Latin +version in her book.</p> + +<p>It was, apparently, a great success. Her work in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +class was so unusually good that Miss Hart's tired +eyes brightened, and her lips spoke a word of high +praise—praise that sent to Genevieve's cheek a +flush that Genevieve herself tried to think was all +gratification. But—the next day she did not write +any words in the book. The out-of-doors, however, +was just as alluring, and the outside duties were +just as pressing; so there was just as little time as +ever for the Latin verbs. They suffered, too, in +consequence. So, also, did Genevieve; for this +time, Miss Hart, stung into irritation by this apparently +unnecessary falling back into carelessness, +said a few particularly sharp words that sent Genevieve +out of the class with very red cheeks and very +angry eyes.</p> + +<p>"I just hate Miss Hart and school, and—and +everything," stormed Genevieve hotly, five minutes +later, as she met Cordelia and Tilly in the corridor +after school was dismissed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve," remonstrated Cordelia, faintly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do. I didn't have time to get that lesson—but +a lot Miss Hart cared for that!"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you use a pony?" twittered Tilly, +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"A—pony?" Genevieve's eyes were puzzled.</p> + +<p>Tilly laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't one of your bronchos," she giggled, +"and it's easier to ride than they are! It's just a +nice little book that you buy—a Latin translation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +you know, all done by somebody else—and no +bother to you."</p> + +<p>"But—is that quite—fair?" frowned Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m; well, I presume Miss Hartless wouldn't +call it—good form," she shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Why, Tilly Mack! of course it isn't fair, and +you know it," cried Cordelia. "It's worse than +cribbing."</p> + +<p>"What's cribbing?" demanded Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"It's the only way out when you haven't got +your lesson," answered Tilly, promptly.</p> + +<p>"It's writing the translation under the words in +the book," explained Elsie Martin, who, coming +up at the moment, had heard Genevieve's question.</p> + +<p>"It's just plain cheating—and it's horrid," declared +Cordelia, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Genevieve's face turned a sudden, painful red, +for some unapparent reason.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, it must be," she murmured faintly, as +she turned to go.</p> + +<p>On the walk home that noon, Harold, as was frequently +the case, overtook her.</p> + +<p>"Well, what part of the world would you like +changed to-day?" he asked, with a smiling glance +at her frowning face.</p> + +<p>"Chiefly, I reckon I'd like no school," sighed +Genevieve; "but if I can't have that, I'd like another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +box of teachers opened so we could have a +new one."</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I reckon the trouble is with me," admitted +Genevieve, ruefully. "Anyhow, Miss Jane would +say it was. I flunked in Cæsar—but that's no reason +why Miss Hart should have been so disagreeable! +But then, I suppose she has to be. She came +out of that kind of a box, you know."</p> + +<p>Harold laughed, though a little gravely.</p> + +<p>"You still think they come all boxed, sorted, and +labeled, do you?" he said. "And that they aren't +'just folks' at all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I still think so. They never seem a bit +like 'folks' to me. It's their business to sit up +there stiff and solemn and stern, and see that you +behave and learn your lessons. I never saw one +that I liked, except Miss Palmer and Miss Jones—but +then, they came out of a jolly box, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Lucky ladies!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed rebelliously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know I'm horrid," she admitted; "but—well, +I went off for a ride with Tilly yesterday +after school, instead of paying attention to his Imperial +Highness, Cæsar; and that's what was the +trouble. But, Harold, it was so perfectly glorious +out I had to—I just had to! I tell you, every bit +of me was tingling to go! Now what do you suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +Miss Hart knows of a feeling like that? She +simply couldn't understand it."</p> + +<p>"But—Miss Hart doesn't look very old—to +me."</p> + +<p>Genevieve stopped short, and turned half +around.</p> + +<p>"Old! Why, she's a <i>teacher</i>, Harold!"</p> + +<p>Harold chuckled, as they started forward again.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see some teachers' faces if they +could hear you say 'teacher' in that tone of voice, +young lady!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! I reckon it would take considerable to +make me think of any teacher as <i>young</i>," retorted +Genevieve, with emphasis.</p> + +<p>"All right; but—aren't you coming out, later, +for a walk or—or something?" asked Harold, a +little anxiously, as they reached the Kennedy driveway.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, little boy," she answered, with mock cheerfulness. +"I'm going to practise, then I'm going to +study my algebra, then I'm going to study my Latin, +then I'm going to study my French, then I'm going +to study my English history, then—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Good-by!</i>" laughed Harold, clapping his hands +to his ears, and hurrying away.</p> + +<p>Unhesitating as was Genevieve's assertion of her +intentions, those intentions were not carried out, +even to the practising, first on the list; for, in putting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +down her books, Genevieve dropped some loose +papers to the floor. The papers were some that had +that day been returned by Miss Hart; and, as the +girl gathered them up now, a sheet of note paper, +covered with handwriting entirely different from +her own, attracted her attention.</p> + +<p>She recognized the writing at once as that of +Miss Hart, and she supposed at first that the paper +must contain some special suggestions or criticisms +in regard to her own work. With a quick frown, +therefore, she began to read it.</p> + +<p>She had not read five lines before she knew that +the paper did not contain criticism or suggestions. +But so dazed, so surprised, and so absorbed was she, +by that time, that she quite forgot that she was +reading something most certainly never meant for +her eyes to see.</p> + +<p>The paper was evidently the second sheet of a +letter. The writing—fine, but plain—began close +to the top of the first page, in what was apparently +the middle of a sentence.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"speak freely, I am sure.</p> + +<p>"Things are not getting any better, but rather +worse. I cannot seem to win them. Of course I +understood that my task would be difficult, following, +as I did, two such popular teachers. I think, +perhaps, that this very fact has made me nervous; +and so—I have not appeared even at my best.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +But, oh, I have tried!—you cannot know how I +have tried!</p> + +<p>"I am nearly sick with terror for fear I shall lose +my position—and of course <i>that</i> doesn't help me +to be the cool, calm, judicious person in the chair +I ought to be. But it means so much to me—this +place—and if I should lose it, there would be poor +Annie deprived of her comforts again; for, of +course, a failure here would mean that not for a +long time (if ever!) could I get another like it.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me for burdening you with all this, +but it had got to the point where I must speak to +some one. Then, too, I did not know but you could +perhaps tell me why I have failed—I have tried so +hard myself to understand!</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I think I'm too lenient. Sometimes +I think I'm too strict. Sometimes I'm so worried +for fear they'll think me too young and inexperienced, +that I don't dare to act myself at all—then +I'm stiffly dignified in a way that I know must be +horrid.</p> + +<p>"After all, I think the whole secret of the matter +is—that I'm afraid. If once I could have a confident +assurance that I <i>am</i> doing well, and that I +<i>am</i> winning out—I think I should win out. I do, +truly!</p> + +<p>"And now I must stop and go to work. I'm in +the grove, back of the schoolhouse. I often bring +my papers here to correct. I have them with me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +to-night; but—I've been writing to you instead +of working. I'll finish this later. But, really, already +I feel a little better. It's done me good, just +to say things to you. Of course, to no one else +could I—"</p></div> + +<p>There was a little more, but Genevieve stopped +here. Not until she read that last sentence did she +realize in the least what she was doing. Then, hurriedly, +with flushed cheeks and shamed eyes, she +thrust the letter out of sight under the papers. But +there was something besides shame in her eyes; +there was a very real, and a very tender sympathy +for—folks.</p> + +<p>"And to think that I—read it," she breathed. +Then, suddenly, she snatched up the papers again. +"But she mustn't know—she <i>mustn't</i> know," +choked the girl. "Maybe, if I run, I can get there +in time and tuck it into her desk. I <i>must</i> get there +in time," she declared aloud, darting out of the +house and up the street without once looking back +toward an amazed Miss Jane, watching her from +the window.</p> + +<p>As Genevieve hoped would be the case, the janitor +had not finished his nightly duties. The great front +door stood wide open, and Genevieve made short +work of reaching her own room. As she opened +that door, however, she paused in dismay.</p> + +<p>Miss Hart was in her chair. Her arms lay folded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +on the desk before her, and her face was hidden in +them.</p> + +<p>The knob under Genevieve's nerveless fingers +clicked sharply, and Miss Hart raised her head with +a start.</p> + +<p>During the one brief moment that Genevieve +gazed into her teacher's startled eyes, wild plans +raced through her mind: she would run; she would +go to her own desk and leave the papers, then destroy +the fateful letter to-morrow; she would walk +up and hand the letter to Miss Hart now, and confess +that she had read it; she would—</p> + +<p>"Why, Genevieve!" cried Miss Hart, a little +huskily. "Did you—forget something?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Hart; yes—well, I mean—it isn't +that I <i>forgot</i> exactly. I—I didn't know," she faltered, +realizing more than ever the meaning of the +letter she had just read, now that the wistful-eyed +writer of it sat before her, bearing plain evidence of +tears.</p> + +<p>"Can I do anything for you?" Miss Hart asked.</p> + +<p>Genevieve went, then, straight to the desk. The +papers—with the letter—were rolled tightly in +one hand.</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Hart, thank you; but—isn't there +something that—that I can do for—you?" she +faltered.</p> + +<p>What happened next was, to Genevieve, certainly, +most disconcerting. Miss Hart gave one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +look into Genevieve's eyes, then dropped her face +into her hands and burst into tears. At Genevieve's +aghast exclamation, however, she raised her head +determinedly and began to wipe her eyes.</p> + +<p>"There, there, my dear," she smiled brightly, +winking off the tears. "That was very foolish and +very silly of me, and you must forget all about it. +I was a little homesick, I'm afraid, and perhaps a +bit blue; and your eyes looked into mine so frankly +and honestly, and with such a courageous 'I'll-try-to-help-you' +look, that—that—well, you know +what I did. But come—let us talk no more of this, +my dear! Let us get out of this stifling room, and +into the blessed out-of-doors. We'll go into the +grove for a little walk. These four walls have been +just smothering me all day!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve opened wide her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, do <i>you</i> feel that way—too?" she asked +incredulously.</p> + +<p>Miss Hart colored a little.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I do, my dear—though probably I +ought not to have said just that—to you," she +sighed constrainedly. "But—to tell the truth, +I've never been able quite to see what houses were +made for, I suspect, since I used to ask that question +as a little girl. I imagine 'twas in summer, +however, not winter, when I asked it," she finished +a little tremulously, as they passed through the hall +to the outer door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once again Genevieve opened wide her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Did you ask that—really? Why, Father says +that was one of <i>my</i> questions, too," she breathed +rapturously. "Why, you are—you are just +like—" with a little cough Genevieve choked off +the "folks" before it was spoken. The word was +"me" when it finally left her lips.</p> + +<p>It was a wonderful half-hour that Genevieve +spent then in the grove. Over in the west the sun +was low, and the shadows were long under the +trees. The air was crisp, but not too crisp, if one +were walking—and she and Miss Hart were walking. +They were talking, too.</p> + +<p>They talked of birds and beasts and flowers. +They talked of school and study, and Latin lessons +that were so hard to learn when the out-of-doors +called. They talked of the days and lessons to +come; and they spoke—at least, Miss Hart did—of +what fine work Genevieve was sure to do before +the year was through. They did not talk, however, +of Miss Hart's tears in the classroom, nor of Miss +Hart's letter still tightly clutched in Genevieve's +hand.</p> + +<p>Genevieve, however, had not forgotten the letter; +and when she walked alone toward home, a little +later, she wondered what she should do with it. To +give it openly back to Miss Hart, she felt was not +to be thought of; at the same time she doubted if +in any other way she could return it to her now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +The letter certainly had already accomplished two +things: never again would she so misjudge Miss +Hart; never again, too, would she let the others +so misjudge her, if she could help it—and she +believed she could help it. She should try, certainly. +As for the letter—</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss," broke in Harold's slightly aggrieved +voice behind her, "is <i>this</i> the way you +practise, and study your Latin and your French and +your algebra and your English history?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve was too absorbed even to notice the +taunt, much less to reply to it.</p> + +<p>"Harold," she sighed, "I wish you'd tell me +something."</p> + +<p>"Certainly! You have only to command me," +bowed the lad, with mock pomposity, as he fell into +step with her.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was frowning. She did not even +smile.</p> + +<p>"Harold, if you had something that belonged to +somebody else, and they didn't know you had it +and would feel dreadfully if they found out you +had it, do you think you ought to give it back to +them, and so let them know you had it, when all +the time if they <i>didn't</i> know you had it, they +wouldn't care at all?"</p> + +<p>"W-w-well!" whistled Harold. "Do you mind—er—giving +me that again, now—say, in pieces +a foot long this time? If I were Cordelia I might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +give you my answer right off the handle, but—I'm +not Cordelia, you see."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed a little ruefully.</p> + +<p>"There wouldn't anybody know, of course, unless +I told the rest; and I can't tell the rest."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not," smiled Harold, oddly; "but I'll +wager you'll have to be telling something to Miss +Jane pretty quick now. I saw you when you flew +out of the yard an hour ago, and I fancy Miss Jane +must have seen you, too. At any rate, she's been +to the door three times since, to my knowledge, to +look for you."</p> + +<p>Genevieve clapped her hand to her lips.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! I never thought to tell them a word. +I just ran."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I noticed you—ran," observed Harold, +dryly.</p> + +<p>"And they always want to know just where I +am," sighed Genevieve. "O dear! if you do something +bad in order to do something good, which is +it—bad or good?"</p> + +<p>Harold shook his head.</p> + +<p>"That's not in mine, either," he retorted whimsically. +"Really, Miss, your questions on ethics +this afternoon do you credit—but they're too much +for me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon this one is for me," sighed +Genevieve again, as she came in sight of the house +and saw Miss Jane Chick at the window. "But the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +other one—I know the answer to that. I shall +burn it up," she said decisively, clutching even more +tightly the roll of papers in her hand, as she turned +in at the Kennedys' front walk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>A TEXAS "MISSIONARY"</h3> + + +<p>October passed and November came. School +was decidedly more bearable now, in the opinion of +Genevieve, perhaps because it was a rainy month; +but Genevieve preferred to think it was because of +Miss Hart. It was strange, really, how much Miss +Hart had improved as a teacher!—all the school +agreed to that. Even Tilly ceased to call her "Hartless."</p> + +<p>"Maybe she came in a jolly box, after all," +Harold said one day to Genevieve; but Genevieve +tossed her head.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! She wasn't in any box at all, Harold. +She's—<i>folks!</i>" And Harold saw that, in spite of +the lightness of her words, there were almost tears +in Genevieve's eyes.</p> + +<p>Presidential duties, too, were easier for Genevieve +now. They proved to be, in fact, very far from +arduous; and, as Tilly declared, they were, indeed, +"dreadfully honorable."</p> + +<p>As correspondent for the school magazine Genevieve +did not feel herself to be a success. She wrote +few items, and sent in even fewer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>Those she did write represented hours of labor, +however; for she felt that the weight of nations +lay on every word, and she wrote and rewrote the +poor little sentences until every vestige of naturalness +and of spontaneity were taken out of them. +Such information as she could gather seemed always, +in her eyes, either too frivolous to be worth +notice, or too serious to be of interest. And ever +before her frightened eyes loomed the bugbear of +PRINT.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was during the short vacation of three days at +Thanksgiving time that Nancy, the second girl at +the Kennedys', came to the parlor door one afternoon +and interrupted Genevieve's practising.</p> + +<p>"Miss Genevieve, I do be hatin' ter tell ye," she +began indignantly, "but there's a man at the side +door on horseback what is insistin' on seein' of ye; +and Mis' Kennedy and Miss Jane ain't home from +town yet."</p> + +<p>"Why, Nancy, who is the man?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't sayin' that I know, Miss, but I do say +that he is powerful rough-lookin' to come to the +likes o' this house a-claimin' he's Mis' Granger's +cousin, as he does."</p> + +<p>"Reddy! Why, of course I'll see Reddy," cried +Genevieve, springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>A minute later, to Nancy's vast displeasure, Genevieve +was ushering into the sitting room a sandy-haired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +man in full cowboy costume from broad-brimmed +hat and flannel shirt to chaparejos and +high-heeled boots.</p> + +<p>Reddy evidently saw the surprise in Genevieve's +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," he smiled sheepishly, as Nancy +left the room with slow reluctance, "I reckon you're +surprised to see me in this rig, and I'll own I hain't +wore 'em much since I came; but to-day, to come +to see you, I just had to. You see, Miss Genevieve, +it's what this 'ere rig stands for that I want to see +you about, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"About—this—rig?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes—in a way. It's about the West."</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's Martha—Mis' Granger, my cousin. I want +her to go back with me. She's all alone, and so am +I. And she'd come in a minute, but she's—afraid."</p> + +<p>"What of?"</p> + +<p>Reddy's lips twitched.</p> + +<p>"Indians and prairie fires and bucking bronchos +and buffaloes. She thinks all of 'em run 'round +loose all the time—in Texas."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>"The idea! Haven't you told her they don't?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; and I've come to see if <i>you</i> won't tell +her."</p> + +<p>"I!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. She thinks I'm a man and rough anyhow, +so I don't count. <i>Would</i> you be willing to +come and talk Texas to her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I will," cried Genevieve. "I'll +come right away to-day, after I've finished my +hour."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," sighed Reddy, rising to his feet. +"Now I'll hit the trail for Texas inside of a month—you +see if I don't! What <i>you</i> say will go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but don't be too sure of that, Reddy," +frowned Genevieve, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I ain't. I'm just <i>sure</i>—and that's all right," +retorted Reddy, cheerfully. "And mighty glad I +shall be to get there, too! I'd be plum locoed here +in another month. You see, I've got some money +now, and I know a nice little place I can buy cheap, +to start in for myself. Martha'll take Jim Small's +girl, 'Mandy, for company and to help. You see +we've got her already roped."</p> + +<p>"She wants to go, then?"</p> + +<p>"Dyin' to. It all depends on you now, Miss +Genevieve."</p> + +<p>"All right; I'll be there," promised the girl, +laughingly, as Reddy, watched by Nancy's disapproving +eyes from the kitchen window, swung himself +into the saddle and galloped down the driveway.</p> + +<p>A little later Genevieve met Mrs. Kennedy and +Miss Chick at the foot of the front walk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've taken my music lesson and done my hour, +and I'm off on missionary work now," she beamed +brightly. "I knew you'd let me go, so I didn't +wait till you came home."</p> + +<p>"Missionary work?" frowned Miss Chick.</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" questioned Mrs. +Kennedy.</p> + +<p>Genevieve chuckled.</p> + +<p>"It's to teach Mrs. Granger that Texas has something +besides bucking bronchos and prairie fires. +You see, Reddy wants to take her West, and she's +afraid. She thinks those things, and Indians and +buffaloes, are all that grow there. So I'm going to +tell her a thing or two," she finished with a nod +and a smile.</p> + +<p>Just how successful Genevieve was with her missionary +work perhaps she herself did not realize +until nearly a fortnight later, when Cordelia Wilson +overtook her on the way to school one +morning.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, Genevieve, please," panted Cordelia. +"I want you to do some missionary work for me! +Will you?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve turned in surprise.</p> + +<p>"'Missionary work!' What <i>do</i> you mean?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia laughed and colored.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's what you did for Mrs. Granger. +Reddy told me. He said you called it missionary +work—and that <i>'twas</i> missionary work, too. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +know they're to start next week, and they're all so +happy over it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," nodded Genevieve; "and I'm so +glad!"</p> + +<p>"So am I," sighed the other, fervently. "You +see, Reddy being my find, so, I felt responsible; +and of course I ought to feel that way, too. Just +think—what if they weren't happy over it!"</p> + +<p>"But they are," smiled Genevieve. "What's the +use of 'if-ing' a thing when it just <i>is</i> already?"</p> + +<p>"What?" Cordelia's eyes were slightly puzzled. +"Oh, I see," she laughed. "What a funny way +you do have of putting things, Genevieve Hartley! +Why don't you say such things as that in your notes +for the magazine?"</p> + +<p>"In the magazine?—mercy! Why, Cordelia, +they're <i>printed!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" maintained Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"What of what?" chirped a new voice; and +Tilly Mack hurried up from behind them.</p> + +<p>Cordelia looked plainly disappointed; but Genevieve +turned with a light laugh.</p> + +<p>"My magazine notes, Tilly. Cordelia doesn't +like them," she explained.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Genevieve, it's only that I want you to +write as you talk," supplemented Cordelia, in distress.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know. I'm sure—aren't they +true?" bridled Genevieve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> + +<p>"True!" giggled Tilly, suddenly. "Oh, yes, +they're true, just as 'c-a-t spells cat' is true—and +they sound just about like that, too, Genevieve +Hartley, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"Humph! I like that," bridled Genevieve, again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tilly, she writes lovely notes—you know +she does," championed Cordelia, almost tearfully.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't write lovely notes," disputed Genevieve, +with unexpected frankness. "They're just +like Tilly says they are, and they're horrid. I <i>do</i> +say 'c-a-t spells cat' every time—but I simply +can't seem to say anything else!"</p> + +<p>"But why don't you write as you talk?" argued +Tilly.</p> + +<p>"Or as you do in the Chronicles?" added Cordelia. +"You write just beautifully there."</p> + +<p>"But, Cordelia, that isn't <i>printed</i>," cried Genevieve, +again, as they came in sight of the school +building and saw Elsie Martin coming to meet them.</p> + +<p>At the doorway of the classroom Cordelia whispered +to Genevieve:</p> + +<p>"Please wait after school for me. I'll tell you +then—about the missionary work, you know." +And Genevieve nodded assent.</p> + +<p>Once or twice during the day, Genevieve wondered +what Cordelia's missionary work could be; +but for the most part study and recitation filled her +thoughts and time. Mid-year examinations were +approaching, and, in spite of the fact that she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +been doing much better work for the last month, +she felt by no means sure of herself for the dreaded +ordeal. It was of this she was thinking when she +met Cordelia according to agreement at the close +of the short afternoon session.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, dear," she sighed; "but, really, I +reckon <i>I'm</i> the one that needs the missionary work +if any one does—with those horrid exams looming +up before me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you've been doing such splendid work—lately!" +cried Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," retorted Genevieve, wrinkling up +her nose saucily at the pause before the "lately." +"I perceive you still know how to tell the truth, +Miss!"</p> + +<p>"Genevieve!" protested Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then you mean it wasn't the truth," bantered +her friend.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve!" groaned Cordelia, hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"There, there, never mind," laughed the other. +"Come, we must be running along; then you shall +tell me all about this wonderful missionary work +of yours. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it—it's about another of my—my +finds."</p> + +<p>"Oh, your lost people?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's John Sanborn, Hermit Joe's son, +you know. He wants to go West and take his +father."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, can't he? Or doesn't his father want +to? Maybe you want me to go and tell Hermit Joe +not to be afraid of bronchos and buffaloes," +laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>A swift color stole into Cordelia's face.</p> + +<p>"No; Hermit Joe wants to go."</p> + +<p>"Then what is it?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia laughed shyly.</p> + +<p>"Well, it—it's a lady, Genevieve."</p> + +<p>"A lady! Why, Hermit Joe and his son haven't +any—any women or cousins, have they?"</p> + +<p>"No; but—but they want one," admitted Cordelia, +a little breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Cordelia, what <i>are</i> you talking about?" she +demanded.</p> + +<p>Cordelia laughed softly, but she grew suddenly +very pink indeed, and she clasped her hands rapturously.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Genevieve. I've been just longing +to tell you, every minute. It's the loveliest thing—just +like a book! It seems Hermit Joe's son, years +ago, before he ran away, had a sweetheart, Miss +Sally Hunt."</p> + +<p>"That little old maid on Hunt's Hill? She's a +dear, I think!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but she wasn't old then, you know. She +was young, and so pretty! She showed me her +picture, once—how she looked then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—go on!"</p> + +<p>"Well, they were sweethearts, but they had a +quarrel or something, and—anyhow, Mr. John +Sanborn ran away."</p> + +<p>"How long ago?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty years; and now he's back, and they've +made everything all up lovely, and he wants to +marry her and take her West."</p> + +<p>"Oh-h!" breathed Genevieve. "It <i>is</i> just like a +story; isn't it? And didn't it turn out lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, only it hasn't turned out yet."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter? I thought you said they'd +made it all up!"</p> + +<p>"They have. She'll marry him; but she—she's +afraid of Texas, too, just as Mrs. Granger was, I +guess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," cried Genevieve. "Pooh! We'll +fix that in no time," finished the Texas "missionary," +with confidence.</p> + +<p>"There, I knew you would," sighed her friend, +blissfully. "You see, I specially wanted Miss +Sally to be happy, because I couldn't find—" +Cordelia caught herself up in time. She must not, +of course, tell Genevieve about Sally Hunt's lost +brother whom she had failed to find. "Well, you +know, anyway, Sally Hunt is very poor," she explained +hastily; "and everybody said, when we +went to Texas last summer, that she'd have to go +to the Poor Farm soon, if something wasn't done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +So I'm specially glad to have her happy, and—" +Cordelia stopped, and turned to Genevieve with a +new look in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, I've just remembered," she cried. +"At the ranch last summer, when I was talking to +Mr. Jonathan Edwards and didn't know his name +was 'Sanborn'—I've just remembered that I told +him about Miss Sally, and how she'd have to go to +the Poor Farm. Genevieve, I'm sure—I just +know that's one reason why he came home!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was," agreed Genevieve, excitedly; +"and we'll go straight up there now, if Aunt Julia'll +let us; only—" her face fell—"Cordelia, when +<i>shall</i> I get in my studying?"</p> + +<p>"To-night, Genevieve; you must study to-night," +answered Cordelia, firmly. "You mustn't +sacrifice your studies, even for missionary work. +Uncle always says it isn't right to send money to +the heathen when your own child is hungry; and +I'm sure this is the same thing. Maybe we can go +Saturday morning, though," she finished hopefully.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we can," declared Genevieve; "and +I'm just as excited as I can be. I just love missionary +work," she exulted, as she waved her hand in +farewell, at her street corner.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>GENEVIEVE GOES TO BOSTON</h3> + + +<p>December was a busy month, indeed. To Genevieve +it seemed actually to be one whirl of study, +lessons, practice, and examinations, leaving oh, so +little time for Christmas gifts and plans.</p> + +<p>A big box was to go to the Six Star Ranch, and +a smaller one to Quentina. But, better than all, +Mr. Jones was to have a letter from Mrs. Kennedy +which would—Genevieve was sure—carry a +wonderful happiness to Quentina. Mrs. Kennedy +was to ask Mr. Jones to let Quentina come to Sunbridge +to school the next winter, and share Genevieve's +room, as Mrs. Kennedy's guest. All other +expenses, railroad fare, school supplies, and any +special instruction, were to be met by Mr. Hartley +through Genevieve herself.</p> + +<p>All this, of course, Genevieve had not brought +about without many letters to Mr. Hartley, and +many talks with Mrs. Kennedy and Miss Chick, +wherein all sorts of pleadings and promises had a +part. But it had been done at last, and the letter +was to go in the Christmas box—but of all this the +Happy Hexagons were not to know until the answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +from Mr. Jones came. Naturally, however, +Genevieve could not keep all her attention on her +studies that month, in spite of the coming examinations.</p> + +<p>There was, too, more than one visit to the gentle +spinster on Hunt's Hill before Genevieve quite succeeded +in convincing Miss Sally that there <i>were</i> +places in Texas where wild Indians did not prowl, +nor wild horses race neck and neck across vast +deserts of loneliness. At last, however, she had +the satisfaction of hearing from John Sanborn's +own grateful lips that everything was all right, +and that the wedding day was set for April the +tenth.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this came the dreaded examinations, +then the fearful waiting till the last day of +school when the decision would be announced. The +winter before, at these mid-year examinations, +Genevieve had not passed. She had not forgotten +the mortification of that tragedy, nor the weary +weeks of study that had been necessary to enable +her to go on with her class. So she, of all the girls +now, was awaiting the verdict with special anxiety. +Meanwhile, all the Happy Hexagons were spending +every available minute on Christmas gifts.</p> + +<p>It was just a week before Christmas Day that +Genevieve was surprised to receive a hurried after-school +call from Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve—quick!" panted Cordelia, dropping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +herself into the first chair she came to. "Can't +we do something? We <i>must</i> do something!"</p> + +<p>"Of course we can," laughed Genevieve, +promptly; "but—what about?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia gave a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; I wasn't very explicit," she +sighed. "But, listen. You know—or maybe +you didn't know—but the Missionary Society +have been packing a barrel to go West. They're +at the church this afternoon, packing it; but they +didn't have half enough, and they sent down to the +parsonage to know if Aunt Mary hadn't something +more—some old clothes of the children's, or old +magazines, or anything. Auntie's sick to-day with +an awful cold, but she went up attic and hunted up +all she could; then after I got home from school +she asked me to take them down to the church."</p> + +<p>"Yes, go on," prompted Genevieve, as Cordelia +paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, I took them; and, Genevieve, what do +you think?"—Cordelia's voice was tragic—"that +missionary barrel was going to the Rev. +Luke Jones, Bolo, Texas. <i>Our</i> Mr. Jones,—Quentina!"</p> + +<p>"Cordelia! Really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know they told us they got them +from our church sometimes. And, Genevieve, it +was awful—that barrel! It looked just like the +other one, the one they got while we were there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +that day—old shoes and dolls, and <i>homely</i> +things!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cordelia! What did you do?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia drew in her breath with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I talked. I said things—awful +things. I know they were awful things from the +looks of some of their faces. And at the last Mrs. +Johnson—you <i>know</i> how she can be sometimes!—she—she +just snapped out: 'Very well, Miss Cordelia, +if you are not satisfied with what we have +been able to procure after weeks of hard work, suppose +you go out yourself and solicit gifts for your +friends!' And, Genevieve, I said I would. And I +turned 'round and marched out. And now—now—what +<i>shall</i> we do?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Do? Why, we'll do it, of course," she cried.</p> + +<p>"But, Genevieve, I'm so scared. What if folks +won't give—anything? Those women worked +weeks—they said they did—for what they've +got!"</p> + +<p>"But folks <i>will</i> give," declared Genevieve, with +prompt confidence. "Now wait. I'll have to tell +Aunt Julia where I'm going, then I'll be back ready +to start," she finished, as she whisked out of the +room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve, you're always so comfortingly +<i>sure</i>," sighed Cordelia to the door through which +her friend had just sped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the next two hours Sunbridge, as represented +by many of its most staid and stately homes, +received the surprise of its life—a surprise that +sent hitherto complacently contented women scurrying +into attics and closets, and stirred reputedly +miserly men into thrusting hands into inside +pockets for spare bills.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the sight of the eager young faces, +alight with generous enthusiasm. Perhaps it was +the pathos of the story of one missionary barrel as +told by girlish lips trembling with feeling. Perhaps +it was just the novelty of receiving so direct, +and so confident an appeal for "something you'd +like to have given to you, you know." Perhaps it +was a little of all three that worked the miracle. +At all events, in the church parlor some time later, +a little band of excited, marveling women worked +until far into the evening packing a missionary +barrel for the Rev. Luke Jones. And when it left +their hands, there was in it the pretty dress for the +minister's wife, the unworn underclothing for the +minister's boys, the fresh hair-ribbons for the minister's +daughter, and the serviceable coat for the +minister himself, to say nothing of uncounted +books, games, and household articles of a worth +and desirability likely to make a missionary minister's +family exclaim with surprise and delight—until +they found the generous roll of bills in the +minister's coat pocket, when they would be dumb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +with a great wave of reverent gratitude to a God +who could make human hearts so kind.</p> + +<p>"There!" sighed Genevieve, when she and Cordelia +had left their last parcels at the church door. +"I reckon we've got something different for that +barrel now—but we'll never let Quentina know, +<i>never</i>—that we had a thing to do with packing it."</p> + +<p>"No; but I guess she'll suspect it, though," returned +Cordelia, with a teary smile. "But, oh, +Genevieve, didn't they give just splendidly!"</p> + +<p>"I knew they would," declared Genevieve, "if +they just understood."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I wish they'd—understand +oftener," sighed Cordelia, as she turned down her +street.</p> + +<p>Two days later the Happy Hexagons were holding +a hurried meeting at the parsonage after school. +It was the night before the last day of the term, +and they were all trying to work at once on the +sofa pillow they had planned to give Miss Hart. +Cordelia was making the tassel for one corner, and +Alma Lane one for another. The other two tassels +were being sewed on by Elsie and Bertha. Tilly +was writing the card to go with it, and Genevieve +was holding the paper and ribbon with which to do +it up.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to do as Miss Jane does, next year," +sighed Genevieve, at last.</p> + +<p>"And what does Miss Jane do?" asked Tilly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Begins in January to get ready for Christmas. +Now I've got exactly seventy-nine and one things +to do before next Tuesday—and to-day is Thursday."</p> + +<p>"You must have spent part of your valuable time +counting them," teased Tilly, "to have figured them +down so fine as that."</p> + +<p>"Seventy-nine and one are eighty," observed +Cordelia, with a little frown. "Why didn't you +say eighty to begin with, Genevieve?"</p> + +<p>"Because she wanted to give your brain something +to do, too," explained Tilly, wearing an exaggeratedly +innocent air.</p> + +<p>"Tilly!" scolded Genevieve. But Tilly only +laughed, and Cordelia forgot her question with the +last stitch she put into her tassel.</p> + +<p>The pillow was given to Miss Hart the next day, +and, apparently, made the lady very happy. Nor +was Miss Hart the only one that was made happy +that day. Genevieve, and in fact, all the Happy +Hexagons, together with O. B. J. Holmes and +nearly all the rest of the class, knew before night +that they had "passed"—which is no small thing +to know, when for days you have worried and for +nights you have dreamed about the dreadful alternative +of a contrary verdict.</p> + +<p>With Miss Jane Chick, Genevieve went to Boston +shopping, Saturday, coming back tired, but +happy, and all aglow with the holiday rush and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +color of the crowded streets and stores. On Sunday +came the beautiful Christmas service, which +Mr. Wilson made very impressive. Certainly it +touched Genevieve's heart deeply, as she sat by +Mrs. Kennedy's side and listened to it. It seemed +so easy to Genevieve, at that moment, always to be +good and brave and true—always to be thoughtful +of others' wishes—never to be heedless, careless, or +impulsively reckless of consequences!</p> + +<p>It was snowing when she left the church, and it +snowed hard all the afternoon and until far into the +night. Genevieve awoke to look out on a spotlessly +white, crystal-pure world, with every ugly line and +dreary prospect changed into fairylike beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh—oh—oh, isn't it lovely!" she exclaimed, +as she came into the dining-room that morning. +"Don't I wish Quentina were here to see it—and +to talk about it!"</p> + +<p>"We'll hope she will be some day," smiled Mrs. +Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, 'Here's Miss Jane at the window-pane' +all ready for her," chanted Genevieve, merrily, +her eyes on the tall figure in the bay window.</p> + +<p>Miss Jane turned with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's very lovely, of course, Genevieve—but +I must confess it isn't lovely to me this morning."</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Jane!"</p> + +<p>"I had planned to go to Boston. In fact it seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +as if I must go. But I have waked up with a sore +throat and every evidence of a bad cold; and I'm +afraid I don't dare to go—not with all this new +snow on the ground and dampness in the air."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't I go, Miss Jane? I was going to ask +to go, anyway. I find there are three more things +I want to get, and I know I can't find them here."</p> + +<p>"But you have never been to Boston alone, my +dear."</p> + +<p>"I suppose everybody has to have a first time," +laughed Genevieve; "and I'm not a mite afraid. +Besides, I know the way perfectly, all through the +shopping district; and all I have to do then is just +to take the car for the North Station and the +train home. I reckon I know how to do <i>that</i> +all right!"</p> + +<p>Miss Jane frowned and shook her head slowly.</p> + +<p>"I know; but—I hate to let you do it, Genevieve, +only I—it seems as if I <i>must</i> go myself!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy looked up reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Jane, I am inclined to think Genevieve +can go all right," she smiled. "She has been to +Boston now many times, you know."</p> + +<p>"There, Miss Jane!" crowed Genevieve, triumphantly. +"You see! Please, now," she begged.</p> + +<p>Miss Jane still frowned—but a look of almost +reluctant relief came to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Very well," she conceded slowly. "Perhaps, +my dear, I will let you go for me, then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Miss Jane—besides, there are +several things I want for myself."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear. I have three things that must +be changed, and there are two that I want you to +buy. It seems so absurd—when I began last January—that +there should be anything to be done +to-day; but, unfortunately, some of my plans had +to be changed at the last moment. You may get +ready at once after breakfast, please, then come to +my room. I'll have the list all made out for you. +You'll have to bring everything home, of course, +but they are not very heavy, and you can carry +them all in the large hand bag, I think. You'd +better take the nine-four train."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was not quite half-past ten when Genevieve +arrived in the great Boston station that morning. +She glanced importantly at her pretty little watch, +took a firmer hold on the large leather bag she carried, +and stepped briskly off toward her car.</p> + +<p>It was delightful—this independent feeling of +freedom. Even to pay her fare and to signal the +conductor to stop were Events. Shopping, all by +herself, was even more delightful; so she dallied +over every purchase and every exchange as long as +she could—and it was not hard to dally, with the +crowds, the long waits, and the delays for change.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock, when in state she ate her luncheon +at a pretty white table in a large department-store<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +dining-room, she had not half finished her task. +She was so glad there was still so much to do! +But at four o'clock, when she did finish, she looked +at her watch with faintly troubled eyes. She had +not, indeed, realized that it was quite so late. She +remembered, too, suddenly, for the first time, that +Miss Chick had told her to come back early. She +wondered—could she catch the four-twenty train?</p> + +<p>Stores and sidewalks were a mass of surging, +thronging humanity now, and progress was slow +and uncertain. When, at ten minutes past four, +she had not succeeded even in reaching her car for +the station, she gave up the four-twenty train. +Well, there was one at five-fifteen, she comforted +herself. She could surely get that.</p> + +<p>The streets were darkening fast, and lights were +beginning to flash here and there, finding a brilliant +response in tinsel stars and crystal pendants. With +the Christmas red and green, and the thronging +crowds, it made a pretty sight; and Genevieve +stopped more than once just to look about her with +a deep breath of delight. It was at such a time +that she saw the small ragged boy, and the still +smaller, still more ragged girl wistfully gazing +into the fairyland of a toyshop window.</p> + +<p>"I choose the fire engine, the big red one," she +heard a shrill voice pipe; and she looked down to +see that it was the boy's blue lips that had uttered +the words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I d-druther have that d-doll," chattered the +mite of a girl; "an' that teeny little bedstead an' +the chair what rocks, an' the baby trunk, an' the +doll with curly hair, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Gee! look at the autymobile," cut in the boy, +excitedly. "Say, if I had that—"</p> + +<p>"Well, you shall have it, you poor little mite,—or +one just like it," cried Genevieve impulsively, +sweeping the astonished children into the circle of +her arm, and hurrying them into the store.</p> + +<p>They did not get the "autymobile" nor yet the +engine nor the big doll. Genevieve selected them, +to be sure, with blithe promptness; but when she +took out her purse, she found she had not half +money enough to pay for them, which mortified +and disappointed her greatly.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear!" she laughed, blushing painfully. +"I'm afraid I can't manage it, after all, chickabiddies. +That horrid money of mine has given out! +I bought more things than I meant to, anyhow. +Never mind, we'll get all we can," she cried, emptying +her little purse on the counter, even shaking it +to make sure no lurking penny stayed behind. +"There, you'll have to make that do," she said to +the amazed clerk behind the counter. "Just please +give them whatever you can for that." And the +clerk, counting out one dollar and eighty-three +cents, obeyed her literally.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, two dazed, but blissfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +happy children clasping in their arms a motley array +of toys, and a laughing, bright-faced girl with a +tan leather bag, joined the hurrying throng on the +street.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, chickabiddies, and good luck to you," +called Genevieve, waving her hand in farewell to +the children, as she spied her car in the distance.</p> + +<p>"Poor little midgets!" thought Genevieve, as she +stepped on to the car; "I don't think now they +really believe they've got those things. But I do +wish I could have bought all those first things they +selected!" A moment later she took out her purse +to pay her fare.</p> + +<p>The conductor, coming toward her just then, saw +her face turn red, then white. The next minute she +was on her feet, hurrying toward him.</p> + +<p>"Fare, please," he said mechanically, holding out +his hand.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't want this car," she stammered +faintly. "If you'll—stop, please." A moment +later she rushed blindly through the door and down +the steps to the street.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was thoroughly angry, and very much +ashamed.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 313px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.jpg" width="313" height="356" alt=""IT WOULD BE SOMETHING OF A WALK, THE WOMAN SAID, AS SHE GAVE DIRECTIONS"" title=""IT WOULD BE SOMETHING OF A WALK, THE WOMAN SAID, AS SHE GAVE DIRECTIONS"" /> +<span class="caption">"IT WOULD BE SOMETHING OF A WALK, THE WOMAN SAID, AS SHE GAVE DIRECTIONS"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Now I reckon I've done it," she muttered half +aloud. "No wonder they say I never stop to think! +Seems to me I might have thought to save a nickel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +for my car-fare, though! Never mind, I'll walk it. +Serves me right, anyhow, I reckon!" And determinedly +she turned toward a woman near her and +asked the way to the North Station.</p> + +<p>It would be something of a walk, the woman said, +as she gave directions; but Genevieve declared she +did not mind that. Very courageously, therefore, +she turned a corner and began to thread her way +among the crowd.</p> + +<p>She was laughing now. This thing was something +of a joke, after all. Still, she was rather +sorry it had happened—on Miss Jane's errand. +She would be late home, too. (She pulled aside the +lapel of her coat and glanced at her watch.) Five +o'clock, already! It would be late, indeed, if she +could not catch the five-fifteen! Still, there must +be other trains, of course, and it took only an hour +and twenty minutes to go—</p> + +<p>Genevieve stopped with a little cry of dismay. +She remembered now that she had used the last of +the commutation tickets. Miss Jane had told her +to get a single-fare ticket for the return trip. And +now—pray, how was one to buy any sort of fare +without any money?</p> + +<p>A hurrying man jostled <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads ' er'">her</ins>, and Genevieve +stepped into a doorway to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'thin '">think.</ins> Across the street +a blue-bell-sign caught her <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'at ention'">attention</ins>, and sent a +swift light to her eye.</p> + + +<p>Why, of course! She would telephone for Aunt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +Julia to send Nancy or somebody in with some +money. Why had she not thought of it before?</p> + +<p>She had pushed her way half across the crowded +street when it occurred to her that she needed money +to pay the telephone toll.</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a place! It takes money to +do everything! I just hate cities," she stormed +hotly—then jumped just in time to escape the +wheels of a swiftly-moving automobile.</p> + +<p>Safely back in the doorway, she tried to think +once more. Then, slowly, she began to retrace her +steps toward the corner from which she had started.</p> + +<p>The crowds were just as gay, the Christmas reds +and greens just as brilliant, and the tinsel stars and +crystal pendants were just as sparkling; but Genevieve +did not even look at them now. She was +tired, ashamed, and thoroughly frightened. The +bag, too, began to seem woefully full, and her +stomach correspondingly empty.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, after a time, the Christmas +service of the day before rang in her ears. It +seemed so far away now. And yet—it was only +yesterday that she had been promising herself never +again to be thoughtless, heedless, or impulsively +reckless of consequences. And now—</p> + +<p>Suddenly she almost smiled. She was thinking +of her question to Harold:</p> + +<p>"If you do something bad to do something good, +which is it, good or bad?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p> + +<p>One by one the minutes passed. It grew darker +and colder. At times Genevieve walked on aimlessly. +At others, she stood one side, watching the +crowds, hoping to find some man or woman whom +she could dare to ask for money. But her cheeks +burned at the thought, and she never saw the man +or woman whom she wanted to ask—for money. +That the blue-coated man at the street-crossing +might help her, never occurred to Genevieve. +Genevieve knew policemen only as vaguely dreadful +creatures connected with jails and arrests.</p> + +<p>In time it came to be quite dark. Genevieve wondered +what would become of her—by midnight. +People did not starve or die, she supposed, in Boston +streets—not when the streets were as bright +as these. But she <i>must</i> get to Sunbridge. <i>Sunbridge!</i> +How worried they must be about her now +in Sunbridge, and how she wished she were there! +She would be glad to see even Miss Jane's severest +frown—if she could see Miss Jane, too!</p> + +<p>It was six o'clock when Genevieve suddenly remembered +Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Butterfield. She +wondered then how it was possible that she had forgotten +them so long.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Butterfield were two +friends of Mrs. Kennedy's not very far from sixty +years old. They lived in a quaint old house on Mt. +Vernon Street, on top of Beacon Hill—Genevieve +thought she remembered the number. She remembered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +the house very well, for she had called there +twice with Mrs. Kennedy the winter before.</p> + +<p>It was with a glad little cry that Genevieve now +turned to the first woman she met and asked the +way to Mt. Vernon Street.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the somber Butterfield dining-room on Mt. +Vernon Street, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Butterfield +had almost finished dinner, when their pompous, +plainly scandalized butler, standing beneath the +severest of the severe Butterfield portraits, announced +stiffly:</p> + +<p>"There's a young person at the door, ma'am, +with a bag. She says she knows you, if you'll see +her, please."</p> + +<p>One minute later, the astonished Mr. and Mrs. +Thomas Butterfield caught in their arms a white-faced, +almost fainting girl, who had sobbed out:</p> + +<p>"Please, won't you give me a little money and +some supper, and telephone to Aunt Julia!"</p> + +<p>Seven minutes later Mr. Thomas Butterfield had +Mrs. Kennedy at the other end of the wire.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>A BROWN DRESS FOR ELSIE</h3> + + +<p>Christmas, for Genevieve, was not a happy time +that year; and when the day was over she tried to +forget it as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>She had stayed all night with the Butterfields—which +had not been unalloyed joy; for, though they +obviously tried to be kind to her, yet they could not +help showing that they regarded her sudden appearance +among them, dinnerless and moneyless, as +most extraordinary, and certainly very upsetting +to the equanimity of a well-ordered household.</p> + +<p>In the morning she went back to Sunbridge. At +the house she found Miss Chick ill. Her cold, and +her fright over Genevieve, had sent her into a high +fever; and Mrs. Kennedy was scarcely less ill herself.</p> + +<p>Certainly it was not exactly a cheerful Christmas +Day for the one whose heedlessness had brought it +all about. But Genevieve mourned so bitterly, and +blamed herself so strongly, that at last, out of sheer +pity, Mrs. Kennedy, and even Miss Jane Chick, +had to turn comforter; for—as Mrs. Kennedy reminded +her sister—it was, after all, aside from her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +thoughtless lack of haste, only Genevieve's unselfish +forgetfulness of her own possible wants that led to +the whole thing. Then, and not until then, did +Genevieve bestow some attention upon her Christmas +presents, of which there were a generous number.</p> + +<p>Fortunately no one outside the house had known +of Genevieve's nonappearance that Christmas Eve, +so she was spared any curious questions and interested +comments from others of the Happy Hexagons.</p> + +<p>The short Christmas vacation sped rapidly. The +young people spent much of it on the river, skating, +when the ice was good. Genevieve, it is true, was +not often seen there. Genevieve was playing nurse +these days, and so devotedly attentive to Miss Jane +Chick was she, that both the ladies had almost to +scold her, in order to make her take needed exercise. +Even Harold Day reproached her one morning, +when he met her coming from the post-office.</p> + +<p>"You don't let any of us see anything of you—not +anything," he complained. "And you look as +if you were doing penance, or something—you've +got such a superior expression!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve dimpled into a sudden laugh.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I am," she retorted. "Maybe I did +something bad so I could do something good; and +now I'm trying to do enough good to take out all +the taste of the bad."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what do you mean by that, Miss Mystery?"</p> + +<p>She would not tell him. She only shook her head +saucily, and ran into the house.</p> + +<p>By New Year's Day Miss Jane seemed almost +like her old self, and Genevieve was specially happy, +for on that night Harold Day gave the first dance +of the season; and, with Miss Jane better, and her +own heart lighter once more, she could give herself +up to full enjoyment of the music, fun, +and laughter.</p> + +<p>All the Happy Hexagons were there, together +with O. B. J. Holmes, Charlie Brown, and many +other of the young people, including even Tilly +Mack's big brother, Howard, who—though quite +twenty-one—was a prime favorite with the Happy +Hexagons.</p> + +<p>Genevieve was wonderfully happy that evening. +Never had the music sounded so entrancing; never +had her own feet felt so light. With Harold she +"opened the ball," as Tilly airily termed it; then +Charlie and O. B. J. had their turn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve, you do look just too sweet for +anything in that pale pink," panted Elsie, stopping +at her side between dances.</p> + +<p>"Not any sweeter than you do in that white," +tossed back Genevieve, affectionately.</p> + +<p>Elsie sighed.</p> + +<p>"I love this white, too, but it's got kind of frazzled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +now. Aunt Kate says she is going to make +over Fannie's brown silk for Miss Sally's wedding," +she went on, sighing again.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that will be nice," rejoined Genevieve, +with hasty politeness.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," admitted Elsie; "only brown sounds +kind of hot for April. Still, I suppose I ought not +to mind. Just one girl wore it, anyhow, so it'll be +faded even, and I sha'n't look like two folks in it," +she finished wistfully, as Howard Mack came up to +claim his dance with Genevieve.</p> + +<p>It was three days after the party that there came +a letter from Mr. Jones in reply to Mrs. Kennedy's +Christmas note. It was a very grateful letter, but +it was a disappointing one. It said that Mr. Jones +did not see how he could let Quentina accept the +kind invitation of Mrs. Kennedy and Genevieve. +All the way through it, very plainly was shown the +longing of a man who desires advantages for his +daughter, and the pride of one who cannot bear +that outsiders should give them to her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy saw this—and wrote another letter. +In due time came the answer; and again Genevieve +almost cried with disappointment. But Mrs. +Kennedy smiled and comforted her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he says 'no,' I'll admit, Genevieve; but +I don't think it's quite so strong a 'no' as it was +before. One of these days I think I'll write Mr. +Jones another letter, my dear—but not just now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +We'll let him think a little—of how good it would +have been for Quentina if he'd said 'yes.'"</p> + +<p>Genevieve gave Mrs. Kennedy a big hug.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, you're a dear, and a veritable Solomon +for wisdom. I'm going to write at once to +the President, too. Your place is in the diplomatic +service, I'm sure," she finished, as she danced from +the room.</p> + +<p>As January passed and February came, a new +subject came uppermost in the thoughts of the +Hexagon Club. For the first time in years there +was to be a prize contest in the Sunbridge High +School. The principal, Mr. Jackson, was to give a +five-dollar gold piece to the writer of the best essay, +subject to be chosen by the author.</p> + +<p>"Well, I sha'n't try for it," announced Tilly on +a Saturday afternoon late in February, as the Hexagon +Club were holding their regular meeting at the +parsonage.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Because I don't like defeat well enough," retorted +Tilly. "Imagine <i>me</i> winning a prize contest!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall try," almost groaned Cordelia. "I +shall always try for things, I suppose, till I die. I +think I ought to; but of course I sha'n't win it. +Dear me! How I would love to, though," she cried, +almost under her breath.</p> + +<p>Genevieve, looking at her momentarily illumined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +face, was conscious of a sudden fierce wish that Cordelia +might win that prize.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, of course, will try," she heard Tilly's +teasing voice say, then. "Genevieve loves to +write, so!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve turned with a laugh, and an uptilted +chin.</p> + +<p>"I take it, Miss Mack, that your very complimentary +remarks refer to my magazine notes; but +just let me assure you that this prize essay is quite +another matter. <i>That</i> isn't <i>printed!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>are</i> going to try?—of course you +are," interposed Bertha.</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed lightly as she reached for a +piece of fudge.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I'm afraid everybody will expect +me to. Aunt Julia has already expressed her +opinion of the matter."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>February passed, and March came. A new topic +of conversation now arose, specially of interest to +the Hexagon Club. Miss Sally was to be married +early in April, and the Happy Hexagons were to be +bridesmaids. Naturally, even the new prize contest +had to step one side for that month, in the +minds of the six joyously excited girls.</p> + +<p>It was on a particularly windy Saturday toward +the end of the month, that Cordelia literally blew +up to the Kennedys' front door and rang the bell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p> + +<p>Genevieve herself, passing through the hall, +opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Br-r-r!" she laughed, as she banged the door +shut after admitting the whirling draperies from +which Cordelia's anxious little face finally emerged. +"Why, Cordelia!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; I'm going to be at the club this +afternoon, of course," panted Cordelia; "but this +is for something I wanted to say to you—and I +knew there wouldn't be a chance this afternoon. +It—it's private, Genevieve."</p> + +<p>"Good! I love secrets. Come into the sitting +room. There's no one there this morning. Now, +what is it?" she demanded, as soon as Cordelia's +coat was off, and they were comfortably seated.</p> + +<p>"It—I suppose you might call it missionary +work, Genevieve," smiled Cordelia, wistfully.</p> + +<p>"<i>More</i> missionary work? Who in the world +wants to go to Texas now?" laughed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Nobody. It isn't Texas at all. It's—Elsie."</p> + +<p>"Elsie!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Of course, dear, I don't know as you can +do anything; but you've done so many things, and +I'm sure if you could, it <i>would</i> be missionary work +of the very nicest kind."</p> + +<p>"What <i>are</i> you talking about?"</p> + +<p>Cordelia drew a long sigh.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you. You know the rest of us bridesmaids<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +are all going to wear white, but—but Elsie's +got to wear Fannie's brown silk."</p> + +<p>"I know," nodded Genevieve. "Elsie told me."</p> + +<p>"But, Genevieve, just think—brown silk for a +bridesmaid at a wedding, when all the rest of us +wear white! Besides, Elsie says brown is so hot-looking +for April. She feels awfully about it."</p> + +<p>"Can't she do something? I should think she'd +tell her aunt."</p> + +<p>"She has. But her aunt doesn't seem to understand. +She says that the brown silk is whole and +good, and far too valuable to throw away; and +that it's all just Elsie's notion that she'd rather +wear white."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but if she'd only understand!"</p> + +<p>"But that's just it—she doesn't understand. +And it isn't as if they were poor," argued Cordelia, +earnestly. "Now auntie has to make over things, +of course, for me and for Edith and Rachel, and we +expect it, and don't mind. We're all glad to be +economical and help out, for we know it's necessary. +But it's different with Elsie. She <i>says</i> she +wouldn't mind so, if they were poor and had to. +But the Gales are real well off—Fannie and the +twins have lots of new clothes. Poor Elsie says +sometimes it seems as if her aunt actually bought +things for them, so she <i>could</i> make them over for +her. Elsie says she's never so happy as when she's +doing it, and that she makes a regular game of it—cutting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +them out and putting them together—like +picture puzzles, you know."</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed, though she frowned, too.</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?" she demanded. "I tried, +once, to—to lend Elsie a dress; but she was horrified."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! Of course she was," shuddered Cordelia. +"I don't know <i>what</i> Mrs. Gale would do if +she knew that! They're fearfully—er—er—proud, +I suppose you call it," hesitated the conscientious +Cordelia.</p> + +<p>"But what <i>can</i> I do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but don't you suppose you could—could +say something, somehow, to Mrs. Gale +that—that would make her understand?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Cordelia Wilson, of course I couldn't," +gasped Genevieve, indignantly. "A pretty picture +I'd make going to Mrs. Gale and saying: 'Madam, +why don't you give your niece a new dress when +you know she wants one?'"</p> + +<p>"N-no, I suppose you couldn't do that, of course," +sighed the other. "Very likely you couldn't do +anything, anyway. It's only that I thought—well, +I knew you were going home with Elsie after school +Monday night to study; and I didn't know but +you'd get a chance to say something. But I suppose, +after all, there won't be anything you could +say."</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose there won't," echoed Genevieve,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +still plainly appalled at the task Cordelia had set +for her.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's only that I was so sorry for Elsie," +sighed Cordelia, as she rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Of course! I reckon we're all sorry for Elsie," +sighed Genevieve in her turn.</p> + +<p>And she was sorry. All the rest of the morning +she kept thinking how very sorry she was; and +when afternoon came, and when she saw Elsie's lips +quiver and her eyes fill with tears, as the others +happily discussed whether they would wear colored +sashes or white belts with their white dresses, Genevieve's +heart quite overflowed with sympathy for +Elsie. And she wondered if, after all, it were possible +to make Elsie's aunt—understand. Determinedly, +then, she declared to herself that, regardless +of consequences, she would try—if she had the +opportunity.</p> + +<p>Genevieve's opportunity came very soon after +she arrived at Elsie's home Monday afternoon. +Even Genevieve herself had to admit that she could +not have had a better one. But so frightened was +she that she wished—for a moment—that there +were none. Then before her rose a vision of Elsie's +tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips—and with a +quick-drawn breath Genevieve rose and followed +Mrs. Gale to the sewing-room.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," Mrs. Gale had said to Genevieve—Genevieve +had picked up a scrap of brown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +silk from the floor. "That's a piece of the dress +I'm making for Elsie to wear to the wedding. The +silly child has got a notion she wants white, but +you'll think this is pretty, I'm sure." And it was +then that Genevieve knew her opportunity had +come.</p> + +<p>In the sewing-room Mrs. Gale proudly spread +the silk dress over a chair-back.</p> + +<p>"There! What do you think of that?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>Genevieve's heart beat so loudly she thought Mrs. +Gale must hear it.</p> + +<p>"It—it's very pretty, isn't it?" she stammered, +wetting her dry lips and wondering what good it +did to say that.</p> + +<p>"Pretty? Of course it is. It's silk, and a fine +piece—I thought when I got it how splendidly it +would make over. I'm sure any girl ought to be +proud to wear it!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve caught her breath sharply. "Proud"—Mrs. +Gale had said "proud"; and Cordelia had +said, that morning, that Mrs. Gale herself was very +proud, and that she would be very angry if she +knew that Genevieve had offered Elsie a dress to +wear. In a flash of inspiration, then, came a wild +plan to Genevieve's mind. If only she had the audacity +to carry it out!</p> + +<p>She wet her lips again, and took desperate hold +of her courage. Even as she did so, she almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +smiled—she was thinking: was this another case +when she was doing something bad to do something +good? Never mind; she must go through with it +now. She <i>must!</i></p> + +<p>"Yes, it is a very pretty dress, indeed," she stammered; +"and it was Fannie's, too, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gale beamed.</p> + +<p>"Yes!—and didn't I get it out finely? You +know sleeves are smaller, so that helped, and the +breadths were so full last year! I think I never +got a dress out better," she finished proudly.</p> + +<p>Genevieve touched the folds lightly.</p> + +<p>"And this isn't faded at all, is it?" she murmured +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"What?" Mrs. Gale's voice was a little sharp.</p> + +<p>Genevieve wet her lips twice this time before she +could speak.</p> + +<p>"I say, isn't it nice that this one isn't faded? +You know Elsie had such a time with that chambray +last summer!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, please?" There was no +doubt now about the sharpness in Mrs. Gale's +voice.</p> + +<p>Genevieve managed a laugh—but it was not a +very mirthful one.</p> + +<p>"Why, 'twas so funny, you know; it was made +from the twins' dresses, and they weren't faded +alike. It was just as Elsie said—she didn't know +whether to turn Cora or Clara toward folks. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +<i>was</i> funny; only, of course it did plague poor Elsie +awfully, and I felt so sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"You felt sorry—<i>sorry</i> for <i>my niece?</i>" The +voice was so very angry this time that Genevieve +trembled. She was sure now that it was bad—this +thing she was doing—that good might come. But +she kept bravely on.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, of course; all of us girls were sorry +for her. You know Elsie does so love new dresses, +and of course she doesn't have them very often. +Last summer, when she was feeling so bad over her +chambray, I—I offered her one of mine, but—"</p> + +<p>"You—you offered my niece one of <i>your</i> +dresses?" gasped Mrs. Gale.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she wouldn't take it; and, of course, +<i>that</i> wasn't <i>new</i>, either," finished Genevieve, with +what she hoped would pass for a light laugh as she +turned away.</p> + +<p>Behind her, for a moment, there was an ominous +silence. Then a very quiet voice said:</p> + +<p>"Thank you; but I hardly think my niece needs +one of your dresses—yet, Miss Genevieve."</p> + +<p>Genevieve fled then, ashamed, and very near to +crying.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have said it, of course," she whispered +to herself as she stumbled back to the sitting-room; +"I wouldn't have said it if the Gales had +been poor and <i>couldn't</i> have given Elsie new things +to wear once in a while!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the Chronicles of the Hexagon Club a fortnight +later, it was Elsie Martin who wrote the account +of Miss Sally's wedding. She wrote as follows:</p> + +<p>"I had a beautiful white dress for Miss Sally's +wedding—a brand-new one. All of us girls wore +white and looked so pretty—I mean, the rest +looked pretty, of course. Miss Sally was married +the tenth of April. It was quite a warm day, and I +was so glad I did not have to wear my brown silk. +Aunt Kate says I needn't wear it anywhere if I +don't want to—and after all her work, too! I +don't know what has got into Aunt Kate, anyway, +lately. She doesn't seem half so interested in +making over things, and I have three other brand-new +dresses, a pink-sprigged muslin, and—but, +dear me! This isn't telling about Miss Sally's wedding +one bit.</p> + +<p>"She was married at four o'clock, and looked too +sweet for anything in light gray silk with a pink +carnation in her hair. Everybody went, and wore +their best things and looked very nice. We had +sandwiches and chicken salad and olives and three +kinds of cake and ice cream for refreshments. The +ice cream was the brick kind, different colors, like +lovely striped ribbon.</p> + +<p>"At six o'clock they started for Boston to begin +their journey West, and we all stood on the steps +and gave them a lovely send-off with rice and old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +shoes. Just at the last minute Tilly says, 'Let's +give her our Texas yell, and end with "Miss Sally,"' +and we did. And everybody laughed and clapped. +But not until the carriage drove off did we suddenly +remember that she wasn't 'Miss Sally' at all any +more, and we felt ashamed.</p> + +<p>"And that's all—except that Miss Sally's going-away +gown was gray, too."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>"WHEN SUNBRIDGE WENT TO TEXAS"</h3> + + +<p>By the first of May many of the papers for the +new prize contest had been turned in. Genevieve's, +however, had not. Genevieve was working very +hard on her essay now. For some time she had not +found a subject that suited her. Good subjects were +not very plentiful, she decided. At last she had +thought of the Texas trip, and had wondered if she +could not compare Sunbridge with Texas. Aunt +Julia and Miss Jane had thought decidedly that she +could. So for some days now, she had been hard at +work upon the paper, and was getting enthusiastically +interested.</p> + +<p>All papers must be in by the sixteenth. It was +on the tenth that Cordelia, during a recess meeting +of the Hexagon Club, drew a long breath and +turned upon her fellow members a beaming countenance.</p> + +<p>"Girls, I can't keep it a minute longer. I've got +to tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Tell us what?" asked Tilly. "It must be something +pretty fine to bring that look to your face!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cordelia laughed and blushed; but she sighed, +too.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't 'fine,' Tilly, at all. I wish it were, +though—but really, I do think it's the best thing +I ever did, anyway."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Cordelia Wilson?" +demanded Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Mercy! It must be pretty good if it's the <i>best</i> +thing Cordelia ever did," teased Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Girls, stop," begged Cordelia, in real distress. +"I—I hate to tell you now; it sounds so foolish. +It's only—my prize paper. It's all done. I'm going +to hand it in Monday, and—and I was so +pleased with the subject!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cordelia, what is it? You know what mine +is," cried Elsie.</p> + +<p>"It's—'When Sunbridge went to Texas,'" announced +Cordelia, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"When—what?" cried Genevieve, almost +sharply.</p> + +<p>Cordelia turned a happy face.</p> + +<p>"I knew <i>you'd</i> like it, Genevieve," she nodded. +"It's our trip, you know. I've told all about it—comparing +things here to things there, you see."</p> + +<p>"Why—but, Cordelia, that's—" Genevieve +paused abruptly. The pause in her sentence was +not noticed. The girls were all talking now, begging +Cordelia to tell them if they were "in it."</p> + +<p>"When—when did you choose your subject,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +Cordelia?" asked Genevieve, very quietly, when she +could be heard.</p> + +<p>"Not until the first of May. I just couldn't +seem to get anything. Then this came all of a sudden, +and—and it just seemed to write itself, it was +done so quickly. You see I didn't have to look up +this subject."</p> + +<p>Genevieve's face cleared. It was all right, after +all. <i>She</i> had selected the subject a whole week before +Cordelia—and of course Cordelia would +understand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Cordelia, that isn't quite fair," she +began impulsively; but for once Cordelia forgot +her politeness and interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, Genevieve," she laughed +gayly. "I've said lovely things of Texas. You'd +know I'd do that, Genevieve, even if I do love +Sunbridge. I did worry at first for fear somebody +else had taken the same subject—some of you +girls—you know we can't have two about the +same thing."</p> + +<p>"But—" The bell rang for the close of recess, +and again one of Genevieve's sentences remained +unfinished.</p> + +<p>Genevieve did not stop even to speak to any of +the girls after school that day. She went home at +once. Even Harold Day, who overtook her, found +her so absorbed in her own thoughts that she was +anything but her usual talkative self.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once in the house, Genevieve went straight to +Mrs. Kennedy.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, if you get a prize subject first, it's +yours, isn't it?" she asked tremulously.</p> + +<p>"Why, y-yes, dear; I should think so."</p> + +<p>"Well, Aunt Julia, something perfectly awful +has happened. Cordelia has got my subject."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Genevieve, I'm so sorry!" Mrs. Kennedy's +face showed more than ordinary distress—Mrs. +Kennedy had had high hopes of this prize +paper. "Why, how did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose it was just in the air. +But <i>I</i> got it first. She says she didn't think of it +till May first. So of course it's—it's mine, Aunt +Julia."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy looked very grave.</p> + +<p>"I think the rules of the contest would give it +to you, Genevieve," she said.</p> + +<p>The girl stirred restlessly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm awfully sorry. She—she was +going to hand it in Monday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is too bad!"</p> + +<p>There was a long silence.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I—I'll have to tell her," murmured +Genevieve, at last. "The club have a ride to-morrow. +There'll be time—then."</p> + +<p>"Yes—if you decide to do it."</p> + +<p>Genevieve turned quickly.</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Julia, I'll have to," she cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +"Just think of all my work! Mine's all done but +copying, you know. And I <i>was</i> the first to get it. +There's no time to get another now."</p> + +<p>"No, there's no time to get another—now." +Aunt Julia looked even more sorrowful than Genevieve +just then—Aunt Julia <i>had</i> wanted Genevieve +to take that prize.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure that Cordelia—when she knows—" +Genevieve did not finish her sentence.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! Of course, if Cordelia should +know—" Aunt Julia did not finish <i>her</i> sentence.</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Julia, she'll have to know," almost +sobbed Genevieve.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Genevieve's eyes were +out the window. Mrs. Kennedy, watching her, suddenly +spoke up with careless briskness:</p> + +<p>"Of course you'll tell Cordelia that 'twas <i>your</i> +subject, that <i>you</i> got it first, and that <i>you</i> want it. +Very likely she won't care much, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Julia, she will! If you could have +seen her face when she talked of it—" Genevieve +stopped abruptly. Genevieve <i>did</i> suddenly see Cordelia's +face as it had been that afternoon, all aglow +with happiness. She heard her eager voice say, +too: "I think it's the best thing I ever did!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, but maybe she doesn't care for the +prize," observed Mrs. Kennedy, still carelessly.</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Julia, she does; she—" Again +Genevieve stopped abruptly. She was remembering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +now how Cordelia's face had looked that February +afternoon at the parsonage when she had said: +"Of course I sha'n't win it—dear me, how I would +love to, though!"</p> + +<p>"But she'll understand, of course, when you tell +her it's <i>your</i> subject and that <i>you</i> want it," went on +Mrs. Kennedy, smoothly. Genevieve did not see +the keen, almost fearful glances, that Mrs. Kennedy +was giving her between the light words.</p> + +<p>"I know; but that sounds so—so—" There +was a long pause; then Genevieve, with a quivering +sigh, rose slowly and left the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy, for some unapparent reason, +smiled—but there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>The Hexagon Club took a long ride the next +day. Five of them talked again of Cordelia's paper, +and four begged Cordelia to tell what she had said +about them. If Genevieve, alone, was unusually +silent, nobody, apparently, noticed it. They were +riding by themselves to-day. They had invited +none of the boys or other girls to join them.</p> + +<p>It was when the ride was over, and when Genevieve +had almost reached the Kennedy driveway, +that she said wistfully, stroking the mare's +neck:</p> + +<p>"Topsy, I just couldn't. I just couldn't! It +sounded so—so—And, Topsy, <i>you</i> couldn't, if +you'd seen how awfully happy she looked!"</p> + +<p>"What did Cordelia say?" asked Mrs. Kennedy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +when Genevieve came into the house a little +later. There was no hint in the lady's voice of the +hope that was in her heart.</p> + +<p>"I—I didn't tell her, Aunt Julia," stammered +Genevieve. Then, with a playful whimsicality that +did not in the least deceive Aunt Julia's ears, she +added: "Who wants that old prize, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful smile, then, that illumined +Aunt Julia's face, and it was a very tender kiss that +fell on Genevieve's forehead.</p> + +<p>"That's my brave Genevieve—and I'm sure +you'll never regret it, my dear!" she said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>May passed, and June came, bringing warm, +sunny days that were very tempting to feet that +were longing to be tramping through green woods +and fields. Examinations, however, were coming +soon, and Genevieve knew that, tempting as was +the beautiful out-of-doors, studies must come first. +Every possible minute, however, she spent in rides, +walks, and tennis playing—even Miss Jane insisted +that she must have exercise.</p> + +<p>June brought not only alluring days, however, +but a letter from Quentina, which sent Genevieve +flying into Mrs. Kennedy's room.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Julia, did you write again to Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"I did," smiled Mrs. Kennedy, "and I have a +letter from him to-day."</p> + +<p>"You darling! Then you know, of course! Oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +Aunt Julia, isn't it lovely! I just can't wait till to-morrow +to tell the girls."</p> + +<p>Genevieve did wait, however—she waited even +till the morning recess. She wanted all the Happy +Hexagons together; and when she had them together +she told them the astounding news in one +breathless rush of words.</p> + +<p>"Girls, Quentina's coming next year to school. +She's going to room with me. Isn't it lovely!"</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of delighted questions +and exclamations; but Genevieve lifted her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h! Listen. I've got her letter here. You +must hear it!" and she whipped open the letter +and began to read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Oh—oh—It isn't true—it can't be true! +But father says it is, and father doesn't lie. I'm +to go to Sunbridge. Sunbridge! I think Sunbridge +is the loveliest name in the world—for a +town, I mean, of course.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Genevieve</span>:—There! this is actually +the first minute I could bring myself to begin this +letter properly. Really, a thing like this can't just +begin, you know! And to think that I'm going to +see Paul Revere's grave and Bunker Hill and you +just next September! Oh, how can I ever thank +you and dear Mrs. Kennedy? I love her, love her, +love her—right now! And all the Happy Hexagons—I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> +love them, too. I love everybody and +everything—I'm going to Sunbridge!</p> + +<p>"All day I've been saying over and over to myself +that song in the 'Lady of the Lake,' only I've +changed the words a little to fit my case; like this:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Quentina, rest! thy longing o'er,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left:0.5em;">Dream of Texas schools no more,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Days of longing, nights of sighing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left:0.5em;">For Paul Revere's enchanted land.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hands unseen thy days are planning,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left:0.5em;">Fairy strains of music falling</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Every sense is up and calling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left:0.5em;">Quentina, rest! thy longing o'er,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">East thy steps will turn once more.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"That 'more' is poetry, but a fib; for of course +I haven't been East at all yet. But that's just poetic +license, you know—fibs like that.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I just can't wait for September!</p> + +<div class='sig'> +<span style="margin-right: 3em;">"Your happy, happy</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Quentina</span>."<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"My, but won't she be a picnic when she gets +here?" chuckled Tilly, as soon as she could stop +laughing long enough to find her voice.</p> + +<p>"What in the world is the matter with you +girls?" demanded Charlie Brown, sauntering up to +them, arm in arm with O. B. J. Holmes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tilly turned merrily.</p> + +<p>"Matter! I guess you'll think something is the +matter when Quentina Jones gets here," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Who is Quentina Jones?"</p> + +<p>"She is a new girl who is coming to school next +year," explained Elsie.</p> + +<p>"She's from Texas, and she's never been East +before," chimed in Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and as for you, Mr. Obejay Holmes," +teased Tilly, "just you wait! There's no telling +what she will do with your name!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>O. B. J. spoke to Tilly, but he threw a merry +glance into Genevieve's understanding eyes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, only she's a regular walking rhyming +dictionary, and I can just fancy how those mysterious +initials of yours will fire her up. My poor little +'O Be Joyful' won't be in it, then. You'll see!"</p> + +<p>"I don't worry any," laughed O. B. J. Holmes, +with another merry glance at Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"You don't have to," interposed Genevieve, +promptly. "Quentina is everything that is sweet +and lovely, and you'll all like her; I know you will," +she finished, as the bell rang and the boys turned +laughingly away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>A GOOD-BY PARTY</h3> + + +<p>The June days sped so rapidly that Genevieve +wondered where they went, sometimes. School was +to close the twenty-third. Mr. Hartley was to arrive +on the twentieth. Meanwhile examinations and +the prize contest were uppermost in every one's +thoughts. Graduation exercises were to come in +the evening. The winner of the prize was to be +announced at that time, also.</p> + +<p>"And really, you know, the announcement of +the prize-winner is all we care about specially," +Elsie said one day, in the presence of a group of +her friends on the schoolhouse steps.</p> + +<p>"Just you wait till you graduate," laughed back +Bertha's brother, Charlie, "and then I guess the +<i>evening</i> exercises will be of some consequence."</p> + +<p>"Of course—but that won't be till two years +from now," cried Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Then you girls will be thinking more of frills +and furbelows than you will of prizes," laughed +Harold Day.</p> + +<p>"I've got a new white dress for Graduation +night," said Elsie in a low voice to Genevieve, "and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> +I don't believe I could have a prettier one, even +then."</p> + +<p>"Another new white dress?" demanded Tilly, +who had heard the aside. "Why, Elsie Martin, you +had one for Miss Sally's wedding!"</p> + +<p>Elsie laughed happily.</p> + +<p>"I know—but this is a muslin. Aunt Kate +seemed to want me to have it—and of course I'd +love to have it, myself!"</p> + +<p>Genevieve, for some reason, looked suddenly +very happy, so much so that Harold, watching her, +said quietly a minute later:</p> + +<p>"Well, young lady, what's gone specially right +with your world to-day?"</p> + +<p>Genevieve laughed and blushed. She shook her +head roguishly. Then suddenly she rejoined:</p> + +<p>"I reckon one of my awfully bad things has +turned out all good—that's all!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>True to his word, Mr. Hartley came on the +twentieth. He was to be Mrs. Kennedy's guest +until the start for Texas after school had closed.</p> + +<p>"My, dearie! how fine and tall we are growing," +he greeted his daughter affectionately. "Looks like +Mr. Tim and the boys won't know you, I'm thinking!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Of course they will—and I +can't hardly wait to see them, either," cried Genevieve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is doubtful if, on Graduation night, Cordelia +Wilson herself listened to the announcement of the +prize-winner any more anxiously than did Genevieve. +It seemed as if she could not bear it—after +what had happened—if Cordelia did not get the +prize. And Cordelia got it.</p> + +<p>"'When Sunbridge went to Texas,'" read Mr. +Jackson, "Cordelia Wilson." And it was Genevieve +who clapped the loudest.</p> + +<p>Cordelia, certainly, was beatifically happy. And +when Genevieve saw her amazed, but joyously happy +face, she wondered why she should suddenly want +to cry—for, surely, she had never felt happier in +her life.</p> + +<p>Graduation day, for the Happy Hexagons, was +not, after all, quite the last meeting together; for +Mrs. Kennedy gave Genevieve a porch party the +night before she was to start back to Texas with +Mr. Hartley.</p> + +<p>A very merry crowd of boys and girls it was that +sang college songs and told stories that night on +the Kennedys' roomy, electric-lighted veranda.</p> + +<p>"It seems just as if I couldn't have you go away," +sighed Cordelia, at last, to Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"But I'm coming back next year."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! We couldn't stand it if you weren't," +cried Tilly.</p> + +<p>"And just think—last year we all went back +with you," murmured Elsie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish you were going this year," declared +Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"I guess you aren't the only one that wishes +that," cut in several longing voices.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll take you all now—if you'll go," +retorted Genevieve, merrily.</p> + +<p>"<i>All</i>—did you say?" challenged Harold Day.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all," nodded Genevieve, emphatically. +"We'd be glad to have you, every one of you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I begin to think you would—now that +I've seen Texas," sighed Tilly. "But I suppose we +shall have to content ourselves till you come back +this time."</p> + +<p>"And this wonderful little rhyming dictionary, as +Miss Tilly calls her—does she come back with +you?" asked O. B. J. Holmes.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. She comes next fall, anyway, before +school begins," smiled Genevieve.</p> + +<p>"Well, what I want to know is, if you are going +to do any more Texas missionary work," suggested +Charlie Brown.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! She doesn't do that there—she does +that here," cut in Tilly.</p> + +<p>"There isn't any more to do, anyway," declared +the exact Cordelia, happily. "She's got everything +fixed even down to Elsie's—" She stopped just +in time, but already Genevieve had interposed hurriedly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it wasn't I that did anything. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> +Cordelia. She found them to begin with, you know—Reddy, +and Hermit Joe's son."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kennedy and Miss Jane, together with +Nancy appeared just then with great plates of ice +cream and delicious cake; and after that, all too +soon, came the time for good-nights. The good-nights +were not quite finished, however, until at the +foot of the walk, five members of the Hexagon Club +turned, and all together gave their Texas yell with +a lusty "Genevieve" at the end that brought the +tears to the real Genevieve's eyes.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Texas, Texas, Tex—Tex—Texas!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Texas, Texas, Rah! Rah! Rah!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">GENEVIEVE!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Mercy! What will the neighbors say—at this +time of night!" protested Miss Jane Chick, feebly; +but her eyes, too, were moist.</p> + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + +<h3>BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS</h2> + +<div class='center'><small>(Trade Mark)</small><br /> +<br /> +<i>By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON</i><br /> + +<i>Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per vol.</i> <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='books'> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner +Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of +Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," in a single volume.</p></div> + +<div class='books'> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING-SCHOOL</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><small>(Trade Mark)</small></span><br /> +<b>MARY WARE IN TEXAS</b><br /> +<b>MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND</b><br /> +</div> + +<p><i>These</i> 12 <i>volumes, boxed as a set</i>, $18.00.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + +<div class='books'> +<b>THE LITTLE COLONEL</b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">(<small>Trade Mark</small>)</span><br /> +<b>TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY</b><br /> +<b>THE GIANT SCISSORS</b><br /> +<b>BIG BROTHER</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='center'>Special Holiday Editions<br /> + +Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25</div> + +<p>New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page +drawings in color, and many marginal sketches.</p> + +<div class='books'><b>IN THE DESERT OF WAITING</b>: <span class="smcap">The Legend +of Camelback Mountain.</span><br /> + +<b>THE THREE WEAVERS</b>: <span class="smcap">A Fairy Tale for +Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their +Daughters.</span><br /> + +<b>KEEPING TRYST</b><br /> + +<b>THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART</b><br /> + +<b>THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME</b>: +<span class="smcap">A Fairy Play for Old and Young.</span><br /> + +<b>THE JESTER'S SWORD</b></div> + +<div class='center'>Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative $0.50</div> + +<p>There has been a constant demand for publication in +separate form of these six stories which were originally +included in six of the "Little Colonel" books.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE</b>: <span class="smcap">By Annie Fellows +Johnston</span>. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.</div> + +<div class='center'>New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel +Books,<br />1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50</div> + +<p>A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's +best-known books.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE LITTLE COLONEL GOOD TIMES BOOK</b></div> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Good times book prices"> +<tr><td align='left'>Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series</td><td align='right'> $1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold</td><td align='right'>3.00</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'>Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.</div> + +<p>Published in response to many inquiries from readers +of the Little Colonel books as to where they could obtain +a "Good Times Book" such as Betty kept.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK</b></div> + +<div class='center'> +Large quarto, boards $1.50<br /> +</div> + +<p>A series of "Little Colonel" dolls. There are many of +them and each has several changes of costume, so that +the happy group can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal +of any scene or incident in the series.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>ASA HOLMES</b>; <span class="smcap">Or, At the Cross-Roads</span>. By +<span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'>With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00<br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"'Asa Holmes; Or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most +delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that +has been published in a long while."—<i>Boston Times.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGHWAY.</b> +By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>.</div> + +<p>With an introduction by Bliss Carman, and a frontispiece +by E. H. Garrett.</p> + +<div class='center'> +Cloth decorative $1.25<br /> +</div> + +<p>"Mrs. Johnston's . . . are of the character that cause +the mind to grow gravely meditative, the eyes to shine +with tender mist, and the heart strings to stir to strange, +sweet music of human sympathy."—<i>Los Angeles Graphic.</i></p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE RIVAL CAMPERS;</b> <span class="smcap">Or, The Adventures +of Henry Burns</span>. By <span class="smcap">Ruel Perley Smith</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated. $1.50<br /> +</div> + +<p>A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, +alert, and athletic, who spend a summer camping on an +island off the Maine coast.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT;</b> <span class="smcap">Or, The +Prize Yacht Viking</span>. By <span class="smcap">Ruel Perley Smith</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated. $1.50<br /> +</div> + +<p>This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The +Rival Campers" on their prize yacht <i>Viking</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE</b></div> + +<div class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Ruel Perley Smith</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"As interesting ashore as when afloat."—<i>The Interior.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE RIVAL CAMPERS AMONG THE +OYSTER PIRATES;</b> <span class="smcap">Or, Jack Harvey's Adventures</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +By <span class="smcap">Ruel Perley Smith</span>. Illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"Just the type of book which is most popular with lads +who are in their early teens."—<i>The Philadelphia Item.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>A TEXAS BLUE BONNET</b></div> + +<div class='center'>By <span class="smcap">Caroline Emilia Jacobs</span> (<span class="smcap">Emilia Elliott</span>).</div> + +<div class='cener'> +12mo, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"The book's heroine Blue Bonnet has the very finest +kind of wholesome, honest lively girlishness and cannot +but make friends with every one who meets her through +the book as medium."—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY</b></div> + +<p>A Sequel to "A Texas Blue Bonnet." By <span class="smcap">Caroline +Elliott Jacobs</span> and <span class="smcap">Edith Ellerbeck Read</span>.</p> + +<div class='center'> +12mo, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>The new story begins where the first volume leaves off +and takes Blue Bonnet and the "We Are Seven Club" +to the ranch in Texas. The tables are completely turned: +Blue Bonnet is here in her natural element, while her +friends from Woodford have to learn the customs and +traditions of another world.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE</b> +<span class="smcap">Or, Peggy Raymond's Success</span>. By <span class="smcap">Harriet Lummis +Smith</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +12mo, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>This is a book that will gladden the hearts of many +girl readers because of its charming air of comradeship +and reality. It is a very interesting group of girls who +live on Friendly Terrace and their good times and other +times are graphically related by the author, who shows +a sympathetic knowledge of girl character.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='books'><b>PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION;</b> <span class="smcap">Or, Friendly +Terrace Transplanted</span>.</div> + +<p>A Sequel to "The Girls of Friendly Terrace." By +<span class="smcap">Harriet Lummis Smith</span>.</p> + +<div class='center'> +Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated. <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>Readers who made the acquaintance of Peggy Raymond +and her bevy of girl chums in "The Girls of Friendly +Terrace" will be glad to continue the acquaintance of +these attractive young folks.</p> + +<p>Several new characters are introduced, and one at least +will prove a not unworthy rival of the favorites among +the Terrace girls.</p> + + +<h2>THE HADLEY HALL SERIES</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH</i><br /> + +<br /> +<i>Each, library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated</i> <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='books'><b>ALMA AT HADLEY HALL</b></div> + +<div class='blockquot'>"Miss Breitenbach is to be congratulated on having +written such an appealing book for girls, and the girls +are to be congratulated on having the privilege of reading +it."—<i>The Detroit Free Press.</i></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR</b></div> + +<div class='blockquot'>"The characters are strongly drawn with a life-like +realism, the incidents are well and progressively sequenced, +and the action is so well timed that the interest +never slackens."—<i>Boston Ideas.</i></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class='books'><b>THE SUNBRIDGE GIRLS AT SIX STAR +RANCH.</b> By <span class="smcap">Eleanor Stuart</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>Any girl of any age who is fond of outdoor life will +appreciate this fascinating tale of Genevieve Hartley's +summer vacation house-party on a Texas ranch. Genevieve +and her friends are real girls, the kind that one +would like to have in one's own home, and there are a +couple of manly boys introduced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='books'><b>BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE;</b> <span class="smcap">Or, The Island +of Brotherly Love</span>. A Sequel to "Beautiful Joe." +By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, author of "Beautiful Joe."</div> + +<div class='center'> +One vol., library 12mo, cloth illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'>"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. +It is fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual +as anything in the animal book line that has seen the +light."—<i>Philadelphia Item.</i></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>'TILDA JANE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books +that win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down +until I had finished it—honest! And I am sure that every +one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to +make the acquaintance of the delicious waif.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think of any better book for children than +this. I commend it unreservedly."—<i>Cyrus T. Brady.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>'TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS.</b> A Sequel to "'Tilda +Jane." By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>.</div> + +<div class='center'> +One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as +fond of her animal pets as ever.</p> + +<div class='blockquot'><p>"There is so much to this story that it is almost a novel—in +fact it is better than many novels, although written +for only young people. Compared with much of to-day's +juveniles it is quite a superior book."—<i>Chicago Tribune.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='books'><b>THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS.</b> By +<span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, author of "Beautiful Joe's +Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.</div> + +<div class='blockquot'> +Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and +triumphs, of a delightful New England family.</p> + + +<div class='books'><b>PUSSY BLACK-FACE.</b> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, +author of "'Tilda Jane," "'Tilda Jane's Orphans," etc.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated <b>$1.50</b><br /> +</div> + +<p>This is a delightful little story of animal life, written +in this author's best vein, dealing especially with Pussy +Black-Face, a little Beacon Street (Boston) kitten, who is +the narrator.</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors corrected.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUNBRIDGE GIRLS AT SIX STAR RANCH***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25578-h.txt or 25578-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/5/7/25578">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/5/7/25578</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/25578-h/images/cover01.jpg b/25578-h/images/cover01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ccc585 --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/cover01.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/emblem.png b/25578-h/images/emblem.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e08255b --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/emblem.png diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs01.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74c4d5e --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs01.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs02.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..89949aa --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs02.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs03.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0cf2654 --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs03.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs04.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs04.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53e4452 --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs04.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs05.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs05.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6fcc98 --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs05.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/gs06.jpg b/25578-h/images/gs06.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..300f7fb --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/gs06.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/spine01.jpg b/25578-h/images/spine01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0272aa --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/spine01.jpg diff --git a/25578-h/images/tp01.png b/25578-h/images/tp01.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..705ee52 --- /dev/null +++ b/25578-h/images/tp01.png |
