Mrs. Brewster laughed at the remembrance but told Polly that she hoped she would keep the cover on the sofa.
"You don't mean me to cover up the velvet, do you?" asked Polly, aghast at the suggestion.
"Perhaps Anne will sleep better if the flowers are out of sight," remarked Mrs. Brewster, softly, but with amused sarcasm.
"You-all mought better do that, Miss Pollee, cuz them colors will git sun-streaked in this bright light," added Sary.
"I am not worrying about the fade, Sary, but over the fact that the young teacher and her friends will think weprefersuch crude articles of furniture, instead of tolerating them just because my dear children denied themselves to give us pleasure. It is their motive and delight that we all felt in the gifts, more than the objects which showed immature judgment," explained Mrs. Brewster, slowly and thoughtfully.
Polly was silenced and she suddenly realized how far she must climb before she knew as much as her mother—even though she studied "Art Notes" in the monthly magazines that reached the ranch.
"I wonder if the harsh color Maw speaks of is the real cause of that cretonne cover always being over the sofa?" wondered the girl to herself. But she said nothing and the sofa was left at the foot of the great bed.
Mrs. Brewster knew she had said much, so she left the room and beckoned Sary to follow her to the kitchen. Polly silently proceeded with the finishing touches to the room.
She hung a painted-framed mirror over the wash-stand. The glass was greenish in hue and wavy in lines, but it looked like a reflector and so it remained in position. An enameled basin and earthen jug did duty for toilet purposes. The plain deal chairs were decorated with crocheted tidies—one tied to the back of each chair. And last, but not least, came the treasure of the Brewster family. It had been preserved in paper wrappings and lavender for many years, and now and then the mistress of the ranch-house removed it and hung it out to keep the folds from turning yellow.
"There now! When they see this knitted cotton spread with its raised roses and lilies, those girls will know that we can have wonderful things here as well as there."
So saying, Polly spread out the thick white quilt until the large double-bed was smoothly covered. Then she stood back and sighed with gratification at the result of her afternoon's work.
"There now! I'll just call Maw before I close up the room," murmuredPolly, skipping away to look for Mrs. Brewster.
Sary followed closely after the mistress, as Polly led the triumphal march to the guest-chamber. The door was flung open and the ladies asked to admire.
"Polly, something told me that you would get the spread out of the chest," declared Mrs. Brewster, patting her daughter gently. "And your god-mother would be so pleased if she were here to see how you honored her work. Some day, these quaint old-fashioned spreads and patch-work quilts will become quite the rage again, and then you will feel proud to show yours. I think Anne will appreciate the endless task such a spread represents."
And once more Polly felt that she had not expressed her interior decorating ideals on the same high plane her mother seemed to have reached, but she would not admit having made a mistake, so the crocheted spread remained, even as the green shades and the gay sofa remained, to welcome the city girls to Pebbly Pit.
The time set for the meeting of the Maynard girls and Anne Stewart at the Denver Terminal Station came and passed with no sign of the Chicago travelers. Then Mrs. Stewart was seen hurrying down the platform waving a yellow envelope to attract her daughter's attention.
Anne was patiently seated on the edge of a truck looking keenly at every one in sight, so she soon saw her mother. The Oak Creek local, that left Denver daily at noon, was getting up enough steam to enable it to make aregularstart. Whether it would arrive was a question!
Anne hastily tore the telegram open and read it aloud. "Missed train. Don't wait for us. Go on and send machine to meet us to-morrow, same train, at Oak Creek. Explain to Brewsters. Bob."
Anne looked at her mother and laughed. "If that isn't Bob all over!Guess her hair wasn't dressed."
"Do they think the Brewsters run a limousine, or do they mean a sewing-machine?" asked Mrs. Stewart, guilelessly.
Anne laughed again at her mother's innocent expression, but Mrs. Stewart added: "I told you no good would come of transplanting hot-house flowers to an old-fashioned roundel."
"I can picture Bob Maynard hiking from Oak Creek Station to Pebbly Pit—most likely she will wear French heeled shoes!" said Anne, and she laughed so merrily that waiting passengers in the dingy cars glanced from the tiny windows and felt better for the contagious laughter.
"Oh, my dear! You won't think of making those city girls start training with such a hard lesson, will you?" cried Mrs. Stewart, who understood the reason Mr. Maynard had for this outing.
"Bless your dear heart, no! I'll send the wagon for them, but I wondered what would happen in case theyhadto walk!"
"Well, I'm thankful I'm not in Mr. Maynard's shoes when those girls find out what they will have to dowithoutall summer."
"Nolla will be in her glory—" began Anne, when the conductor hurried over to the two women.
"Going by this train, ladies?"
"Good-by, mother. I'll write all about the reception," laughed Anne, hurriedly kissing her mother and giving her a hug.
"All aboard!" shouted the brakeman, as the tardy passenger mounted the steep steps and waved her hand at Mrs. Stewart.
It was a ride of about seventy miles and Anne thoroughly enjoyed reviewing every landmark as she passed it by. Jeb stood waiting at the little station of Oak Creek, his mouth and eyes wide open as he watched the train pull in—always an exciting time for the farmhand.
The cumbersome ranch-wagon, with its high spring-seat, was drawn up beside a telegraph pole to which the skittish young horses had been securely tied. Anne went over to meet Jeb, and said, with a smile:
"Were you waiting for some ladies for the Brewsters? I am Anne Stewart, the teacher who used to be at Bear Forks school."
"Ya-as'm! How-dee! Hain't you-all got unny more comin'?"
"Not to-day. They missed their train and expect to be here on to-morrow's noon-train. What is your name, may I ask?"
"Jeb," laconically replied the man, looking about as if he still missed a necessary item for the return trip.
"Oh! I guess you want my baggage. It's that small trunk over by the box-car," explained Anne, and Jeb grinned with relief.
As he carried the trunk lightly as if it were a stick, Anne remarked:"It's too bad to make you take this trip again to-morrow."
"Not so-es you-all kin notice it! To-morrer is pay-day fer the miners, en Oak Crick is a lively town, them times," explained Jeb, winking an eye to show what fun he expected to have next day.
"Then it's a lucky thing for you, Jeb, that my friends missed the train to-day."
"Jes' so!" chuckled Jeb, as he gathered up the reins and snacked the whip over his horses' heads.
Conversation lagged after the start, for the bumping and rumbling of the heavy wagon as it went over rocks and ruts in the rough trail, forced all the breath from the passenger's lungs.
The wagon drew up beside the porch of the ranch-house and Anne found the family waiting to receive them. She jumped from her perch and greeted Polly, then smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Brewster as the girl introduced her. Even Sary felt flattered at the kindly greeting accorded her by this pretty school-teacher.
"Wh-hy—you are all alone!" gasped Polly.
Then Anne explained about the telegram just as her train was about to leave Denver. The looks of blank surprise changed to relief as the family heard the cause of the other two girls' non-appearance. They all entered the house together, delighted with each other. Mrs. Brewster felt that she was going to like this girl.
Anne was delighted with the place and everything in connection with it. Even the intense coloring of the sofa or the pea-green shades failed to disturb her peace and repose that night.
After the supper dishes had been cleared away, Mrs. Brewster led the way to the wide terrace that stretched from the porch to the descent of the crater. Here the group watched the sunset, and became better acquainted. By bedtime, Mrs. Brewster was of the opinion that any man excepting John, who got Anne Stewart for a wife was very fortunate, indeed! John was still a superior being.
The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Brewster said to Jeb: "Ah have to look after some business in Oak Creek, to-day, Jeb, so you need not drive over for the girls. Ah will stop at the station and look them up."
"Mebbe you-all'd better take me to hist the trunks, es Ah am young and hearty," ventured Jeb, anxiously.
"You! Why, Jeb, Ah can turn you over with my small finger," laughed Mr.Brewster, comparing his tall muscular frame with that of small slimJeb's.
So Jeb slouched away to look after his master's farm work as well as his own, and as he worked he grumbled and thought of the fun and frolics the "fellers" in Oak Creek were having on their pay-day.
At the Denver station, two girls dressed in the latest modes, walked along the platform toward a line of railway coaches.
"What dirty-looking cars. Can these be right?" said Barbara Maynard.
And the younger girl, Eleanor, replied: "I suppose they burn soft coal."
"Well, they shouldn't! Everything we have on will be covered with soot before we reach the town."
"That will mean more business for the dry-cleaners at Oak Creek," laughed Eleanor. Had she known that the place could not boast of any kind of a cleaning establishment, she would have laughed louder and longer at the novelty.
"I suppose this Oak Creek is the shopping center for all the smaller villages that are within motoring distance of it," surmised Barbara.
"I suppose so," agreed Eleanor, as she watched a man oil the wheels under the engine.
The man finished the work and straightened up. His face and hands were black from grease and oil and soot, but he smiled a friendly smile at the young ladies who were obviously waiting to board his train.
"She's all made up, leddies, ef you-all wants to git in."
"Mercy! Does he have to grin as if he were an old friend when he announces the fact?" complained Barbara, daintily picking her way between boxes and bags of freight.
"He's a genuine western type," laughed Eleanor, following her sister into the coach.
"Goodness gracious! Are we expected to sit on these old dusty plush seats?" cried Barbara, whipping the upholstery with her tiny handkerchief before she seated herself.
Again Eleanor laughed but she was not as merry as when she jumped from the Pullman that morning.
Quite different were the sensations of the two city girls, to those of Anne Stewart, as they passed over the same route and saw the same country. Perhaps it was the difference in training more than the ideals of the three girls.
"Nolla, can all the houses be as horrid as those we have passed by?" asked Barbara, nodding at a group of log-houses.
"I don't know, but they certainly are smaller than the homes in Chicago, aren't they?" rejoined Eleanor, gazing in open curiosity at the scenery and buildings so different from that of the city.
"Smaller! Why, they are simplypoverty-stricken in looks!" exclaimedBarbara in disgust.
The nearer the train came to Oak Creek, the smaller and rougher the houses seemed, until the guard called out:
"Oak Crick! Here's your station!"
The girls gazed at each other in consternation, for the place was little more than a rough mining settlement, or ranch-town.
The brakeman caught up the leather bags and jumped from the slowing train. He planked them down regardless of contents, and ran off to the station. It was an old discarded box-car shoved on a siding to do duty as ticket-office and freight station.
The girls hurried out to the car platform and Barbara asked: "Nolla, why don't you call the porter?"
"They never had one on this line!" Then stepping down side-ways from the high narrow steps of the train, Eleanor cried:
"Gracious! Do catch me if I fall!"
Barbara stared about as a frozen horror slowly crept into her soul and was expressed in her eyes. "Wasthisthe lovely mountain resort for which she had planned such conquests?"
Eleanor spied the precious bags too close to the tracks to insure their safety, so she rushed over to save them from disaster—for who could tell whether that shaky old train would hold together much longer!
But the Local looked worse than it really was. It was as reliable a set of old cars as could be found, even if the paint and polish had vanished with age. Just as the bags were recovered, the whistle tooted, the wheels grated in turning, and the train that on its return trip to Denver, might have carried these girls back totheirkind of civilization, slowly pulled out of sight.
Eleanor struggled with the two well-filled bags of toilet accessories, and deposited them before her sister. "Bet you everything is broken, and our house-dresses ruined with perfume!"
As Barbara made no reply, Eleanor followed the direction of her stare. A group of dreadful looking miners and a crowd of wild-looking cow-punchers were using seven expensive wardrobe trunks for their pleasure.
Evidently the men had indulged in too many tests of Oak Creek whiskey, called "Pizen" by the natives. The cow-boys were picturesque enough in their wide sombreros, woolly chaps, gay shirts, and a swagger that matched their trick of shooting. The miners were swarthy, bearded foreigners, who wore long boots, loose shirts, and belts from which ugly-looking six-shooters protruded.
As Eleanor decided to go over to the circle surrounding the trunks, and demand an explanation she heard a hardened miner shout: "It's my deal next!"
Then the sisters saw that their largest trunk had been turned over on its side to make a convenient card-table. The others accommodated the players and loungers whose spurred heels beat a tattoo upon the polished grain-leather covers.
"Humph! At least we can display original etchings on our trunks when we get them back home," remarked Eleanor, with a gleam of amusement at the affair.
"Everything will simply be ruined! Just see that trunk holding my evening-dresses—right by that horse-trough. Do make those awful creatures go away, won't you, Nolla?" begged Barbara.
"With those nasty guns sticking from their belts—not me! But I'll go to the office and complain to the baggage-master."
So Eleanor courageously turned her back on the fascinating sight of all those revolvers, and Barbara followed closely at her sister's heels; both of them hurried to the old car that displayed a sign saying it was the baggage-room. No one was there, so the girls stood at the door, whence the road leading to the railway could be seen.
"If only we knew when the chauffeur would come!" sighed Barbara, but now Eleanor had misgivings about an automobile.
Meantime the men had seen the two strangers hovering about but they were not aware that the trunks belonged to the new-comers. When the girls entered the "station" one old rascal leaned over and said:
"Them are tenderfeet an' we-all oughter welcome 'em in th' good old-fashioned custom."
"Sure thing!" cried the others, and they quickly planned.
Eleanor decided it was time to dispossess these ruffians from her property, so she assumed an air of courage and started for the group, while Barbara held firmly to her sister's sleeve. But an unexpected denouement halted the two girls.
"Ah say you cheated that deal!" howled a miner, at the same time he slapped his leather gauntlet across a cow-boy's face.
Instantly every revolver was whipped forth and a terrible fight ensued, every man taking part in the general melee. The girls, trembling with fear as shots and curses rang out profusely, clung to each other helplessly, but failed to note that the guns were aimed skyward.
"Hey, boys—what the deuce do you-all mean?" shouted a fine-looking man coming upon the scene unannounced.
The crowd of men looked sheepish and hurriedly explained the joke, looking over in the direction of the two strangers. As their welcome was considered a huge joke the men laughed loudly. Mr. Brewster (for it was the rancher) frowned when he saw the pale girls almost fainting from fear. Then he turned to the ringleader in the plot:
"Say, Bill! Was that pesky train from Denver on time—or too soon, for a change?" asked Mr. Brewster, consulting his watch.
"It war ten minits too airly, 'cause Hank Janssen, th' ingineer, 's got a christenin' down to his home to-night," explained Bill.
"Then those two girls are my company," groaned the rancher, causing a scramble at his words. The cow-punchers whipped off their hats to salute and the miners shuffled behind the daring cow-boys, the better to hide their faces from the "Boss."
Mr. Brewster hurried over to reassure the girls that the whole fight had been staged to entertain them. He explained the cause of his not being on hand to meet them, and waving his hand for the cow-boys, he called:
"Get busy, boys! Shake those trunks into the wagon."
While the men eagerly lent shoulders and muscles to the task expected of them, the three principals in this group made personal notes of each other, albeit not a word was said.
"Ah never did see such ridiculous styles as this!" thought SamBrewster, looking the girls over from top to toe.
"This rough man Mr. Brewster! Why, he's a common farmer!" thoughtBarbara, disdainfully.
"I bet Polly's father's a heap of fun!" thought Eleanor.
When Mr. Brewster realized there weresevengreat trunks belonging to two girls, he groaned within himself, wondering what in the world could be found to fill so many!
The men were handed cigars, and as they doffed their hats to say "Thank you-all" they backed away to permit the Boss to help the girls up the high wagon-side.
Barbara looked at the rough stained hands and said insultingly: "No, thank you!"
"Here—let me jump up and pull you in," laughed Eleanor, uncomfortably, seeing that her sister had offended their host.
Sam Brewster turned to give his horses a pail of water while the two girls attempted to climb up. But the small steel foot-rest was too high to be reached without a boost from below, so they had to climb, hand over hand, up the great wheel with its spokes clogged with the heavy mud from the trails.
When they were finally seated, both girls looked at each other. Fresh natty traveling suits were streaked by the mud, and their gloves—soft chamois-skins—could now be thrown away. Even their faces had been smeared with mud when they slipped and had to clutch at any possible rescue. Naturally, they were not in too amiable a frame of mind for what awaited them at the end of the trip.
The high spring-seat was the only one, so Barbara had to sit there. "I simply cannot hold on to this sky-scraper!" complained she testily.
"It's the only one, Bob, so you willhaveto!" replied Eleanor.
In another moment, Mr. Brewster climbed up easily and sat beside the strangers. He churked to the horses and drove away in a manner that threatened to hurl the city girls from their earthly perch into kingdom come.
"Oh, this is terrible!" groaned Barbara, at an unusually hard bump of the wagon over a rutty road.
"Maybe we can sit down on the floor of the wagon where the trunks are?" ventured Eleanor, looking at Mr. Brewster.
"Shore—if you-all want to. The senseless trunks make better company than a rough old farmer," replied Mr. Brewster, without the least suspicion of malice in the words.
The exchange was made and the girls felt protected by the trunks, so they could take a livelier interest in the ride. As they left the road leading from Oak Creek, the sight of imposing mountains towering in the distance thrilled them in spite of their determination to dislike everything they saw. And the gorgeous hues and beauty of the strange wild-flowers caused exclamations from Eleanor, while Barbara gasped at the vast herds of cattle, grazing, as they roamed over the plains.
Finally Mr. Brewster guided the horses away from the wide trail, into the Bear Forks trail that wound in and out, now on the brink of the river's chasm, or again between jagged cliffs. Anon the awed girls gazed down into fearful depths as the wagon skirted the dangerous brink, or craned their necks to look at the wonderful vines and foliage hanging from the tops of massive rocks. By the time they reached the ridge of foot-hills where the trail led off to the cliffs at the Devil's Grave, both sisters were silenced by the impressive scenery, so that petty problems of puny mortals faded into a misty back-ground.
Suddenly the trail turned around a group of great rocks and the first glimpse of Rainbow Cliffs could be seen. As the wagon drew nigh the gorge running through the cliffs, Anne Stewart and Polly were found waiting for the visitors.
Anne introduced Polly, and Eleanor acknowledged the courtesy, but Barbara rudely failed to notice it as she was so obsessed with the desire to complain about the railroad, the natives of Oak Creek, the trails to Pebbly Pit, and everything connected with the coming.
Polly felt dreadfully shy with such unusual-looking girls. Not that their hats had feathers or fine flowers, nor their suits had any expensive trimmings on them, to suggest wealth, but the way theylookedin their clothes! What made the difference, she wondered. Had Anne told her the actual cost of those hats and suits, poor Polly would have fainted from shock.
Barbara was holding forth on her wrongs. "I can't see for the life of me, Anne, why you selected such an outlandish spot as this, for us, in which to waste a precious summer. Why, it is simplyunbearable—nothing but mountains and trails in sight! And no one but just farmers to associate with! Oh, oh!" The accent on "farmers" made Polly wince and Eleanor frown, at the speaker. Anne hastened to change the subject for she feared Mr. Brewster might turn his horses and take them all back to Oak Creek station.
It was a duel of dialogue between Anne and Barbara after that, each one trying to keep up a conversation they wished to down the other with. Thus the wagon reached the porch.
Polly sprang out and ran indoors unnoticed by any one. Eleanor was deeply interested in gazing out at the great crater bowl that formed the pasture and farm-lands of Pebbly Pit. Anne was anxious to have her charges make a good impression on Mrs. Brewster and so she jumped out and held a hand to assist Barbara.
The lady of the house stood waiting to welcome the girls, when Sary ran out from the kitchen, hurriedly drying her wet hands on an apron. She fully expected to shake hands with the fine ladies, when her turn came to be introduced. She stood directly back of her mistress peering eagerly at the new-comers in their simple straw hats, severe cloth suits, and shoes, gloves, and veils of the finest.
Before Anne Stewart could open her lips to introduce the girls, Barbara sent a scornful glance over the group and then at the ranch-house, and said: "What a barracks! It's nothing more than a log cabin on a gigantic scale."
"Oh, I think it is great! Just like the wonderful cabins we read about in the Adirondacks, or other large camp-sites," quickly added Eleanor.
"But this is not a camp, my poor little sister! And we haven't the same set either, as we would have had at a fashionable camp," sneered Barbara.
"You needn't 'poor me,' Bob! I'm just crazy over the farm and—and everything. Hurry up, Anne, and introduce me so I can get acquainted," cried Eleanor, nudging the teacher to remind her of her duty.
Mr. Brewster had driven the team to a post a little farther up the road, and was not present when the introductions took place. Mrs. Brewster summoned a pleasant smile for Barbara, and a motherly pat on the shoulder for Eleanor. Then Sary stepped forward to be introduced, as it was customary for her to be treated as a member of the family.
"Glad t' know you-all!" simpered Sary, bowing stiffly and offering her reddened hand to shake the gloved ones of the girls.
Barbara completely ignored the par-boiled digits and slightly lifted one eyebrow at Sary. Eleanor felt so humiliated at her sister's actions that she came forward to make amends but Sary would have none of it.
When Barbara gave her a frozen look, Sary examined her hands for a moment, then humped her shoulders and stamped back to the kitchen-range where she had been boiling soap-fat and straining out the scum before the arrival of the city misses.
"Anne, would your friends like to refresh themselves in the bedroom?" asked Mrs. Brewster to break the embarrassed silence.
"Oh, yes, of course!" replied Anne, anxiously turning to Barbara.
Eleanor took the initiative of going toward the door. "I never saw such a darling bungalow! I just love everything spread out on the ground floor. No stairs and no elevators—Oh, how nice!"
"It is a change from your brown-stone mansions, isn't it?" replied Mrs.Brewster, smiling at the concerned face.
"To me it is the most awful place! I don't suppose you have baths, or electric light, or telephone service?" said Barbara.
"Now you see here, Barbara Maynard! You've got to stop this whimpering or I'll wire Daddy to make you go home! I just won't have my whole summer spoiled by your complaints!" cried Eleanor, angrily, and stamping her foot to emphasize her words.
"I hope you didn't expect me tostayhere, did you?" demanded Barbara.
"I hope you won't—that's all I've got to say! Come on, Anne, and show me the place. Where's Polly gone?" said Eleanor.
Polly was found in the large living-room, looking the picture of disappointment. Anne understood how she must have felt, so she diverted the attention of the newcomers to the great yawning fire-place that could hold several tree-trunks at one time.
"And do you know, Nolla, every bit of wood in this house was hewn and carted here by Mr. Brewster? You see the government allows settlers just so much timber with which to construct a home and barns. There is a county sawmill to saw and trim logs and then the owner has to cart them himself. Naturally, one hasn't time to carve fancyidealsin the wood one uses for the house. And having it sent from Denver, or other large cities where labor is to be had, is also out of the question. The freight costs, and the long haul from Oak Creek to the Pit presents difficulties not to be overcome. So folks build homes as solid and strong as they can, and leave the trimmings for a future generation." Anne explained all this for Barbara's benefit, and Mrs. Brewster smiled her gratitude to the girl.
Eleanor seemed more impressed than ever after she heard of the time and labor it must have taken to construct such a house as the Brewster ranch boasted; and Barbara was taken back, as she had not thought of such things, but she pretended not to care.
[Illustration with caption: Barbara completely ignored Sary.]
"Now, girls, come and see the guest-room Polly prepared for us. You know she is going to study interior decorating when she grows up—aren't you, Polly?" said Anne, placing an arm protectingly about the girl's shoulders and moving towards the chamber.
Polly brightened up at once, for she remembered the sofa that Anne had praised as having made a fine bed, and then there were the gorgeous bronzed shades that darkened the windows!
Polly stood at the head of the sofa watching eagerly for the effect of the decorating on the city visitors. Barbara stared at first in utter unbelief that her room could be so barren of comfort, then she turned and frowned darkly as the truth impressed her.
"Why! There's nothing here—only an old bed, and a painted set of drawers such as our servants would fling out of the room!" Then she caught a twisted reflection of her face in the green mirror. It was too much!
She threw herself upon the sofa and laughed hysterically. Eleanor wondered at her sister's discordant mirth but when she looked in the direction Barbara's eyes were turned, she saw the cause.
"Verily, Anne, 'pride goeth before a fall'—Poor Bob!" said Eleanor, cynically.
Anne could not hide a smile at the words but tried to smooth matters out by going to the window and speaking of the view.
"I've had landscape enough for one day, Anne, and could recover somewhat, if I had an opportunity, without having a family party about," retorted Barbara, meaningly.
Instantly, Mrs. Brewster turned and beckoned Polly to follow her from the room. The moment the door closed upon the hostess and her daughter, Barbara anticipated her friend's reproach.
"Anne, where were your brains when you recommended this awful place to father?"
"I had nothing to do with recommending it, Bob. Your father already knew of it and merely asked me to write Polly—my little pupil of a few years ago."
"But why didn't you tellmewhat to expect?" demanded the angry girl.
"Simply because I was asked not to mention any particulars that might prejudice you; and besides, you never asked me anything!" retorted Anne, feeling impatient with Barbara.
"What's more, Bob, I can't see any justice in making the poor Brewsters suffer for what your own father did! But I'm glad he sent us here—it is great!" declared Eleanor.
"Naturally, you find your level in a common country home and family!" said Barbara in an unpleasant voice.
"Words never killed any one, Bob, so keep it up if it makes you feel better. I'm used to your complaints," laughed Eleanor.
"And allow me to add, Bob, that the Brewsters arenotcommon farmers. Mrs. Brewster had a better education and has more sense than any woman—other than my mother—that I know; and Mr. Brewster is a fine man respected by every one that knows him. Even the government admires his intelligence and worth, and employs him in cases where they need expert agricultural advice and reports!" Anne spoke with frankness and warmth.
"The government employs all sorts of men in its need, but that doesn't say the man is a gentleman, nor does it make his wife a lady.Ourmother is a lady and goes in the very best society in Chicago!" said Barbara.
"Society does not make the lady, but the lady makes society. Mrs. Brewster could form the most exclusive set in Chicago if she cared for that sort of thing!" came from Anne, curtly.
"But it would take money, my dear—a farmer couldn't afford an exclusive set!" jeered Barbara.
"If that is the case, the Brewsters could ride on Chicago society's very crest! But they never brag about their money!" laughed Anne, sarcastically.
Barbara's breath was suddenly taken away by this news but she recovered enough to say maliciously: "Oh, I see! That is why you take such a deep interest in John!"
"Barbara Maynard! you—you—if you dare say another word like that to Anne, I'll—I'll just pull your hair, so there!" cried Eleanor, running to Anne and throwing her arms around her neck.
Barbara felt ashamed of her words but she was too proud to confess it. So she tried to excuse herself by saying: "Of course, one can't be expected to fall right in with folks one never heard of before. Anne and you fancy a rural existence, so you naturally defend everything that goes with it. But I shall return home to-morrow on the very first train!"
"There is only one out a day, and you'll have to ask a favor of the farmer before you can get to Oak Creek station!" added Anne, with a bit of triumph in her tone.
Having relieved her heart of some of its bitterness, Anne felt sorry for Barbara, so she endeavored to change the current of their thoughts. She went to the window to raise the shade as far as it would go, and was struck with the wonderful sunset sky.
"Oh, girls! Come here and look at that glory!"
Eleanor rushed over, followed by Barbara who never wanted to miss anything good. All irritation was forgotten and healed as they stood gazing raptly at the beautiful view. The cliffs looked as if volcanic fires were again burning within their hearts, and the mist from the valley crept up to form an illusion of smoke rising from the sharply outlined peaks. A purple haze enveloped the mountains and the dusky-red streaks in the sky perfected the appearance of a vast eternal fire consuming the earth.
The sight had a salutary effect on the girls, and when they turned from the window, it was with the old friendship restored. But Barbara was of a complaining nature and must have something to find fault with. This time it found innocent objects to bear the grumbling.
"Where are we expected to sleep? Both in the same bed?"
"Of course! Isn't it big enough? Why, I never saw such a wide bed; it's large enough to hold a dozen of us," said Eleanor.
"Where is your room, Anne?" Barbara asked, ignoring her sister's remark.
"I sleep here on the sofa," admitted Anne, fearing another scene.
"Sofa—impossible!" exclaimed Barbara.
"It is a bed-lounge, you know. It opens into the nicest bed!" explained Anne, taking hold of the loop that was partly hidden in the deep crease formed by the meeting of the seat and back.
"Watch me! I give a hard tug and presto! the upper half of the seat swings open and turns over like this. There we have a wide bed with ready-made mattress and all that goes to form a comfortable resting place."
Anne demonstrated her words and the city girls saw a low bed opened before their wondering eyes. The pillows and bedding were neatly folded and kept in a long shallow drawer under the sofa.
"How awful—to sleep on that!" cried Barbara. "It looks like great fun!May I sleep here, Anne?" said Eleanor.
"Indeed you shall not! You will sleep withme!"snapped Barbara. Then turning to Anne again, she added: "Where are the wardrobes?"
"Those curtains hide the shelves we will use. You will find nails driven into the board against the wall."
"What! hang our expensive clothes on these common nails!—With only a calico drapery to protect them!" gasped Barbara.
"Leave your expensive clothes in the trunks, then. I am," laughedEleanor.
"Nolla, I will need all of this one for myself; Anne and you will have to share the other one between you," remarked Barbara.
"I thought you were leaving on the early train to-morrow?" teasedEleanor, quickly.
To avoid another quarrel, Anne hastily said: "Oh, I forgot about the trunks. What shall I tell Mr. Brewster?"
"Tell him anything you like about Nolla's, but leave mine where the man can pick them up readily, to-morrow, when I leave," returned Barbara, in a nonchalant manner.
"How about the price of the ticket to Chicago? You know we haven't more than a dollar between us?" suggested Eleanor, dryly.
Barbara had evidently forgotten the fact, but she was equal to the emergency. "I'll telegraph to the bank, the first thing in the morning, and have them wire me the money."
During this animated argument in the guest-chamber, a family gathering formed on the porch of the house.
"Mary, what shall we do with those seven huge trunks?" asked Mr.Brewster, quizzically watching Polly.
"Seven! Why, Paw!" exclaimed Polly, instantly picturing the wonderful things those trunks held. Creations such as she had pored over in the "Farm Journal Fashion Notes."
"I don't know, Sam, unless we leave them in the wagon until the girls decide what they wish done with them?" replied Mrs. Brewster.
Sary overheard the conversation and now ran out to see whether there really could be seven trunks!
"Laws me! Ah never see'd sech quare-shaped trunks—all bulgy at one side, and all them brass locks!"
"They are wardrobe trunks, Sary," remarked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary deigned no reply to the information but vented a bit of her ire against the new-comers by shrugging her great shoulders and saying: "Ef Ah w'ar you-all, Miss Brewster, Ah'd shore pitch them trunks clar over th' line inta Wyomin' state whar th' Injuns kin scramble fer th' fancy duds!"
"Oh, Sary, I smell the cherry-dumplings scorching!" cried Mrs.Brewster, suddenly, knowing the quickest way to rid herself of Sary.
Anne Stewart now came out and saw the group looking at the wagon. "The girls won't bother to unpack to-night, Mr. Brewster, so we may as well leave the trunks in the wagon and take them to the barn."
Jeb was sent to the barn with the wagon and contents, and Mr. Brewster retired to the lean-to back of the kitchen where he washed his face and hands in a tin basin. He had dried his hair and face, when Sary called to her mistress that the meal was ready.
Polly and her mother added the last touches to the table, when Mr.Brewster came to the door saying: "Well, Ah'm ready, Maw!"
"Run and call the girls, Polly; I think Anne went to tell them about the trunks," said Mrs. Brewster.
Unwillingly, Polly obeyed and rapped on the door. "Supper's waiting."
While Polly was absent on her errand, Jeb came into the kitchen, took a home-spun towel from its peg on the back of the door, and his hair-brush from a small cabinet in the corner. With these toilet articles he went out again to the lean-to where the crude oak bench held the basin and soap. The pump was nearby, and Jeb filled the basin quickly and proceeded to immerse his whole head. Unfortunately, at the moment the city maidens reached the kitchen door leading from the living-room, Jeb was guggling loudly. Then he stood up and snorted as he shook his mane free from the streaming water.
Eleanor turned toward Anne with a smile of amusement on her face, butBarbara expressed her disgust with an emphatic "Ugh!"
Polly saw and heard, but failed to understand, as she had been gradually accustomed to Jeb and his uncouth ways. But Mrs. Brewster comprehended the shock it must have been to the city girls and tried to cover the unfortunate incident.
"Anne, will you seat your friends at that side of the table? Polly and I will sit on this side. Mr. Brewster always sits at the head, you know, and I leave the other end for Sary as it is nearest the stove where she can reach it without walking so far."
Jeb came in and immediately pulled out a chair and sat down in his accustomed place, regardless of the standing ladies. Barbara looked on in amazement but said nothing. She was past words!
As they all sat down, Eleanor happened to catch her sister's eye and expression, and turned suddenly to Anne. Anne, too, had seen the horror on Barbara's face as Jeb reached over the table for a spoon Sary had forgotten to place beside his plate.
Eleanor raised the napkin to hide her laughing face, but Mr. Brewster construed the act to be one of reverence, and he approved of such tendencies in the young. Consequently, he hastened to say grace. Barbara sat stiff-necked throughout the lengthy prayer because she felt so rebellious at everything and with everything, that she wouldn't pay heed to the usual courtesy at prayer-time.
The moment Mr. Brewster said "Amen," Sary carried the large soup-pot from the stove and was about to ladle the soup into the bowls when Barbara said icily: "None for me, thank you!"
Jeb was tying his napkin about his neck, but at such a surprising refusal he gaped at the stranger. However, the fact that his own soup-plate was now placed before him ended the speechless shock.
He began eating at once, and the three boarders watched him scoop up the liquid as if his life depended upon finishing the work. The amount of noise he made while accomplishing the feat was a revelation to the Maynard girls and mortifying to Mrs. Brewster.
Sary concluded her serving and sat down to enjoy her own meal. She used the blade of her knife as a shovel and the fork-prongs as a pick. When she was not spearing or loading food upon either, she was using the silver as an eloquent means of expressing her conversation—which was voluble.
The moment supper ended, Mr. Brewster remarked: "The trunks are safe in the barn. Whenever you need them you can tell Jeb, and he will see that they are carried in for you."
"Thank you, but I shall have them taken back to Oak Creek to-morrow as I have no idea of remaining to spoil my summer," returned Barbara haughtily.
Mr. Brewster made no reply but excused himself and went out to the wide steps of the front porch where he sat down to watch the peaceful twilight as it crept slowly over the mountain peaks.
Here, the rest of the family soon joined him, and the wonderful western night, as the brilliant stars sparkled seemingly so near to earth, had its soothing effect on the perturbed hearts and minds of all present. When Mrs. Brewster finally mentioned that it was bed-time the individuals in the group felt more amiably disposed towards each other.
Anne Stewart was awake bright and early in the morning and, finding the sisters sleeping soundly, crept out to enjoy the invigorating breezes blowing down from the mountain-peaks.
Some time later, Eleanor sat up and rubbed her eyes, at a loss to remember where she was. After a moment, however, she saw the sofa and laughed merrily.
"Oh, won't you be quiet! What is the matter with you?" complainedBarbara, sleepily.
"Nothing—I feel so alive! Get up and hear the birds sing," repliedEleanor, springing out of bed and running over to the window.
"Oh, Bob! Look at the dazzling mountain-peaks, over there! I suppose these cool breezes come straight from those ice-tops," exclaimed Eleanor.
"I may as well get up or you'll cause a riot of noise," answeredBarbara, querulously.
"Of course I will. I slept so well that I could dance on a trapeze just now. How did you sleep?"
"Why—what does it matter to you?" countered Barbara peevishly.
"Matter? Why, that bed removes one of the obstacles to your remaining here," laughed Eleanor, triumphantly.
Barbara would not admit that she had never slept better nor would she prevaricate, so she merely said: "I am going to Oak Creek the moment we finish breakfast and wire father's bank for money."
"Might as well find out, first, if you can use the team and wagon. Jeb only goes to town when anything has to be had here or shipped away by train. A trip of twelve miles is not a trifle every day in the week," remarked Eleanor.
"I'll ride a horse to Oak Creek myself. I'll not stand this awful place another day!" declared Barbara.
"You can't ride a horse without its owner's permission."
"Besides," added Eleanor as an afterthought occurred to her, "you only have your new traveling suit and the little light summer frock here. The trunks are going back to Oak Creek to-day, you said, and your riding habit is in one of them."
Barbara made no reply to this statement and Eleanor drew on her stockings and then sought for her shoes which she had playfully aimed at Anne Stewart the night previous. One was found by the bureau and the other was seen under the window. She ran over to pick up the one by the window.
"Oh, Bob! Come here quick!"
"What is it?" cried Barbara, hastily running over to join her sister.
"My! The sun has just touched those snow-covered peaks! I never saw anything so dazzlingly beautiful!" sighed Eleanor, lost in contemplation of the sight.
Barbara also stood watching the sun-beams glancing over the towering peaks, and then she said apologetically:
"I never said thescenerywasn't wonderful. It is! But one cannot thrive on mountains, or associate with views."
"Still, it goes a long way towards creating environment, while the atmosphere and friendships are up to the individual," retorted Eleanor.
"Oh, well, you have the knack of making friends with any one, but I am more reserved and ideal in nature, so I simply cannot accommodate myself to such people and places as this!"
"No, but you can accommodate yourself to some empty-headed society youth who hangs over your hotel-piazza chair and tells foolish fibs to feed your vanity!" scorned Eleanor.
Another sisterly scene might have ensued had not Anne entered the room at this critical time.
"Girls, better hurry and finish dressing as breakfast is almost ready to serve," said she, after a pleasant morning greeting.
"How long have you been up?" asked Barbara.
"Oh, an hour or more. I succeeded in working out a scheme I had to make things pleasanter for every one, and I want you to hurry and approve of it."
Anne lay with closed eyes for a long time revolving many plans for the ultimate harmony of that summer, and when she finally allowed herself to sleep, she had a scheme that she was going to try the next day.
As she came from her room early in the morning, she spied Polly sitting disconsolately on the porch-steps. She went over and sat down beside her.
"Polly, I cannot blame you for wishing we had never come, but now that we are here, let us see if we cannot make something out of the tangle of disappointments. Eleanor will love the place at once, as she is so much like you in nature, dear, but Bob always grumbles over things at first. No matter where or what it is, she feels that she is not showing her superiority if she is not condemning what she comes in contact with. It really is a disease, Polly, and I have tried to cure her of it this last year. I am hoping for great things for her during this season, but I feel that I must confide in you to let you know just what the trouble is. Bob will make a fine woman if this hateful tendency is uprooted in time."
Polly smiled wanly, and Anne, wise young teacher, changed the subject then.
"What a pity one has to waste such glorious views and delightful weather while sitting at breakfast in the kitchen!"
"Where would you eat it?" laughed Polly, looking with amusement at her companion.
"Why, under that lovely group of oaks, to be sure," replied the teacher, pointing at the trees that shaded the well-kept grass plot and flower-beds at the side of the house.
"Under the trees!"
"Certainly; what do you suppose they were grown for if not for our uplift and joy?"
"Why, Miss Stewart, how funny of you! Who ever heard of having meals out-of-doors—except at picnics," laughed Polly.
"Every one who can now prefers out-of-doors to a stuffy room on summer days," replied Anne, calmly, but watching the effect of her words.
Satisfied with Polly's expression, she added: "Didn't you ever read about the garden parties of society people, and the present-day trend to live on wide porches and out-of-doors at every opportunity? Your magazines ought to be full of such accounts."
"Oh, yes, in magazines, but I never dreamed it was true. I've studied every plan and picture I've seen in the magazines, and I loved to picture the beautiful places and furnishings they speak of."
Anne had heard from Polly's brother John, how his sister studied every item on decorating that could be found in papers or periodicals. But Anne did not know that Polly really had a latent talent in this line nor how ambitious she was to express art and beauty in the home.
"That is what I'd like to try here. Have our meals out under those trees. It won't make much extra work as the spot is very convenient to the kitchen door, but we will avoid the heat and steam from the stove and cooking, and have much more room, too."
"I don't suppose it makes much difference where we eat as long as we get it over with as soon as possible," returned Polly.
"That's just the trouble with most people. They merely eat because they feel they have to, but they never stop to make of the habit an opportunity to improve themselves and enjoy a social meeting with each other. We may as well be Zulus and eat with our fingers. Maybe the Zulus would prove more ideal for their home teachings than we really are."
Polly laughed again at Anne's words, but the latter added:
"It's true, Polly. How many people trouble themselves to eat politely, and act or talk from the highest motives? The Zulus follow traditional customs. If we did we would follow the refined court manners of our English and Dutch ancestors. Instead, we are in such haste to eat and get back to the business of making money, that we lose all the pleasure along the way there."
Polly listened anxiously and understood that Anne was gently criticizing what she saw and heard in the kitchen the night before. Anne watched Polly's face and knew she comprehended, then she continued:
"If we have breakfast in the open air it will be much cooler for every one, and Sary need not stop her routine work on account of our being in her way in the kitchen. If we help and wait on ourselves Sary need not be delayed by our tardiness in appearing at table."
"Miss Stewart, I think you're right. And one good thing about eating out here is that we won't feel crowded together with nothing to look at but each other. At least we have the mountains, if we make the oak-trees our new dining-room."
Anne laughed at the manner of Polly's approval and said: "Yes, Polly, the mountains are great and wonderful and so silent, besides."
"Let's go now and ask Maw what she thinks of the plan."
"In a moment, Polly. You know I am anxious to help you in every way, and to teach you if you express yourself poorly?"
"Yes; that's the only good thing about this awful visit," admitted the girl.
"Then allow me to correct an error in speech. If you wish to go toDenver High this fall, I want you to use refined expressions."
Anne looked at her companion and smiled kindly, and Polly said: "Oh,I'll be so glad to correct any mistakes. Tell me what?"
"Just now you called your mother 'Maw.' And I have heard you call your father 'Paw.' They are western terms, but they are not considered correct or refined, elsewhere. The name of Father or Mother is a term of respect and loving reverence from the children. I would like to have you accustom yourself to the use of these titles for your parents and see how the very sound of it will cause you tofeelmore affection."
Polly weighed this news thoughtfully but she was surprised at the information that her customary "Maw" and "Paw" were not the most desirable terms to use. She knew that Anne Stewart knew better than she what was the proper manner of speech and she thanked her for her interest in helping her.
"Then another thing I want you to do, Polly, is that you call me 'Anne.' I am to be with you as one of the family all this summer, and the 'Miss' is too formal for members in the same family. I want to ask this favor of your mother and father too. If you were to use Eleanor's and Barbara's first names for them as I do, I think they would feel more at home."
"Oh, Miss—I mean Anne, I will love to call you that, but I nevercouldhave courage enough to call that proud girl by the name of 'Bob'!" declared Polly.
Anne laughed and patted her apt pupil on the head, then she said, "Shall we go in search of your mother and ask about the breakfast table?"
Polly jumped up and led the way to the kitchen door where Sary was hard at work.
"Sary, can you tell us where my mother is?" asked Polly.
"Your maw's just went to th' buttery to skim the milk," said she, giving Polly an opportunity to compare the two terms.
As the two girls went toward the buttery, Polly admitted: "Anne, it does make a difference, I think."
Anne nodded brightly and opened the creamery-door. Mrs. Brewster stood with skimmer in hand, taking the rich cream from the pans of milk. She looked up with a welcoming smile as the two girls came in.
"Mother, Anne's been giving me 'first aid' in manners," laughed Polly, watching her mother's expression keenly.
"In which line, dear; there are several you can improve in," rejoinedMrs. Brewster, with a loving little laugh.
"Didn't you hear me? I have improved upon your name."
"I noticed it, but I wanted to make sure it was intentional and not a mistake."
"Tell me—do you like it?" asked Polly, eagerly.
"Indeed I do, dear; I never could abide that name of 'Maw' and 'Paw' that is common with the ranchers."
"Then why didn't you tell me this long ago! Oh, mother!"
"If I corrected you, and the other children at school heard you use different terms from those they were accustomed to, they would think you 'proud' and 'too good for a rancher.' I have heard that criticism so often, that I have given up trying to better conditions or express my own desires in anything that an illiterate and inexperienced neighbor may find fault with. I just accept things as they are, now, but hope for better things for my children."
This was a new light on her mother, and Polly felt subdued by it. She wondered if her mother would have been any different if she had been in Mrs. Maynard's place.
"You see," continued Mrs. Brewster, turning to Anne, "one so gets to dread the free speech and narrow-minded opinions of some ranchers that one forbears ineverything, rather than have strife and ill-will from those one must meet at times."
Anne nodded. "But sometimes it is better to take the risk of offending the whole community if one finally wins out."
Mrs. Brewster looked approvingly at the girl, and Polly changed the conversation by saying:
"Mother, Anne and I have a plan that will surprise you."
Mrs. Brewster smiled encouragingly for the girls to speak.
"It's just this: we think it will be lovely to move the table out under the trees. There the air and view can be enjoyed and afford us ample subjects for conversation," explained Anne.
"Anne, splendid! After my experience of last night I would hail any change. But this is really good. I never thought of it myself," replied Mrs. Brewster, with relief.
On their walk to the kitchen, they planned to remove the table and chairs; then Mrs. Brewster added: "My husband breakfasted an hour ago but said he would be back when we sat down for coffee. He enjoys a second cup at his leisure. And I'm quite sure Sary gave Jeb his breakfast after I left the kitchen, so that gives us a clear start for the first meal to-day."
Sary was found upon her knees before the kitchen range, polishing the nickel name-plate on the oven door. A dish-pan of hot water and a scrubbing brush stood upon the floor beside her. As Mrs. Brewster came in, Sary glanced up impatiently.
"Ah de'clar t' goodness! Ah wish you-all'd eat that brekfus an' vamoose outen my way. Ah hes t' scrub this hull floor soon ez th' stove's shined!"
"That's exactly why I came in, Sary—to get breakfast out of your way," returned Mrs. Brewster, sending a swift glance at Polly and Anne.
As Sary's words made way for their work, all fell to with a vim. Polly and Anne carried dishes and chairs out of the room, while Mrs. Brewster whisked off the cloth and asked the maid to help her carry the table out under the trees.
No reply came from Sary, and the mistress turned to see why she did not come to assist. The ludicrous expression on the widow's face, as she sat bolt upright with her blackened hands raised heavenward in silent protest, made Mrs. Brewster laugh.
"What's the matter, Sary?"
"Yore a clar case o' bein' locoed!" gasped the help.
"Not at all, but you want to scrub the floor, don't you?"
"Ah don't need th' furnishin's taken out fer that!"
"But we want to eat, you see, and under the trees we'll be quite out of your way. Here, Anne, help me with the table, will you, please?" said Mrs. Brewster, with finality.
The table was firmly placed under the trees and the cloth relaid. Then the willowware dishes and old Tuttle silver were arranged by Anne, while Polly watched eagerly.
"I do believe those old blue dishes look ten times as nice out here as in the kitchen!" declared Polly, while Anne placed a few wild flowers on the center of the table.
"Merely the effect of your mental testimony, Polly. In the kitchen, with steam, working utensils, and crowed sense of room, everything takes on a sordid look and feeling. But out in God's sunshine and fresh air, everything looks and feels better. That is why sun and air are the best physician for any ill," explained Anne.
Mrs. Brewster heard, and watched Anne with a bright smile, as the sentiment of the words were exactly what she ofttimes thought. When the three returned to the kitchen to take the biscuits and other breakfast food out, Sary stood with head thrown back and body rocking back and forth as she laughed immoderately.
"Do tell, Mis' Brewster! You-all bean't goin' t'eatout thar, now be yuh?"
"Why, of course!" retorted Polly.
"Why shouldn't we?" asked Mrs. Brewster.
Sary could not explain, so she turned to the stove while mumbling to herself the doubts she had over the sanity of the women-folks of this queer family—excepting herself of course!
Anne had gone to the guest-room to call the girls, and to her relief, found them both dressed and ready for breakfast.
"It's a lovely morning," said she, in greeting to them.
"Yes, I've been sniffing the sweetness at the open window," repliedEleanor, but Barbara stood unresponsive.
Anne noticed the simple-looking house-frocks they wore, and felt relieved at the simplicity of color and lines, although she knew that the name-tag inside of those dresses spoke silently of their cost.
"We're going to breakfast out on the lawn—it is perfectly charming there," explained Anne, leading the way from the living-room by way of the front door in order to avoid Sary and her scrub-pail.
But Sary had been anxiously peeping from the crack of the kitchen door, and felt mortally offended when the company went out by the front way. "Was it not enough that the folks were too far removed from the kitchen to permit Sary to overhear what was said at table, but now they have to walk out at the Sunday door?"
So thought the widow as she left her peep-hole back of the door and stood watching from the open window by the cupboard.
Every one seemed in a pleasanter mood than that of the previous evening, and as breakfast advanced, Eleanor went so far as to ask her sister to remain at the ranch a few days, at least. And Barbara, although she would not admit it, knew the bed was exceptionally good and the breakfast most enjoyable, while the air and scenery were simply wonderful!
When Mr. Brewster came along the path leading from the barn, he stood near a lilac bush for a few moments watching the pretty group under the trees. But he couldn't understand having breakfast outside the usual place—the kitchen!
"Is this a picnic?" asked he, at length, coming forward.
"Good morning, Paw—Father! Isn't this fun?" cried Polly.
Mrs. Brewster and Anne exchanged glances at Polly's error and correction, but Sam Brewster failed to notice the new term. He bowed to the three guests and smilingly took the chair his wife placed for him at the table.
While Mrs. Brewster poured his coffee, she remarked: "This is Polly's and Anne's idea. Isn't it sensible—and much pleasanter than in the stuffy kitchen?"
He nodded approval and Polly felt satisfied. Then as her father sipped his fragrant coffee, she said: "Anne was just saying that I ought to show them the Rainbow Cliffs after breakfast."
"It's so clear to-day Ah wouldn't be surprised but what you-all will see Pagoda Peak and Grizzly Slide from the Cliffs, Polly," added Mr. Brewster.
"If we can, they'll like it; it's a wonderful sight, Anne, with the sun shining on the snow-capped crests," explained Polly.
"And then you can take them over there some day, Polly. A good lunch can be packed into Choko's panniers, and with sure-footed horses the ride will be most delightful," added Mrs. Brewster.
"Maw, you can go, too. You agreed to take things easy, you know," reminded her husband.
"Oh, Sam! Riding over the Flat Top Mountains would be the hardest work for me, these days!" laughed Mrs. Brewster.
"Pshaw now! You used to ride better than any cow-boy in these parts, and you can't tell me those days are past," argued Mr. Brewster, dropping the habit of using western terms in his eagerness.
"I've heard of Mrs. Brewster's famous riding," now chimed in Anne.
"She can ride better'n Pa—Father, or any one I ever saw!" Polly maintained.
Mrs. Brewster shook her head in a vain effort to discourage such praise, then she turned to the Maynard girls, saying: "Do you understand western horses? They are rather difficult at times, you know."
"We ride daily when in Chicago," said Barbara, boastfully.
"But city horses are mere nags, Bob. These half-wild animals accustomed to roaming the plains, are something worth while, you will find," laughed Anne.
"I'd advise your going to the corral and having Jeb try out the horses for you, before you undertake any long jaunt," suggested Mrs. Brewster.
"We can visit the Cliffs this morning, and try riding this afternoon," added Polly eagerly.
"Then Bob and I will have to get our habits from one of the trunks in the barn," said Eleanor.
"Bob and you run along and do that while Polly and I make the beds and clear away the breakfast," ventured Anne, looking at Mrs. Brewster. Barbara seemed as interested as any one.