THE OVERSEER OF THE RAINBOW RANCH
"OH," sighed Frieda sleepily, "isn't it too delicious to hear the American language spoken once again!"
Ruth and the three other Ranch girls laughed almost as sleepily as Frieda had spoken. They were on the night train coming up from Folkestone to London, after having crossed the English channel from Boulogne earlier in the afternoon. It was now the first week of June.
"Bravo, Frieda!" teased Jean. "One can always count on the younger Miss Ralston's sayingthememorable thing as soon as the Rainbow Ranch party arrives on a new soil. Who would have thought of the American tongue being employed in the British Isles. I shall mention it to Frank Kent as soon as we see him."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't be funny, Jean Bruce," the first speaker protested, "for you know exactly what I mean. I suppose I should have said the English language.But even if the English do speak deep down in their throats and their voices are kind of choky and queer, at least one can understand what they mean without consulting a dictionary or trying to remember something one has learned at school. After having heard nothing but Italian, German and French for over two months, I could almost have hugged that porter who carried our bags off the boat."
Frieda had been resting her head on her chaperon's shoulder, but now lifted it to continue her argument with Jean. However, Ruth drew her back to her former place.
"Don't be a purist at this late date, Jean," Ruth murmured, shaking her head in a kind of mild reproof. "I must confess I am feeling pretty much as Frieda does. English or American, whichever you may prefer to call it, after our continental wanderings, England does seem almost like home."
And Ruth closed her eyes, she and Frieda both dropping off into a gentle doze, while Olive and Jean talked in whispers, and Jack stared out of the window into the darkness.
Since leaving Rome, the five young women had become proverbial Cook's tourists. They had been traveling almost continuously, sight-seeingduring every possible hour, and allowing no time for loitering. For after Rome had followed Florence, Venice and then Paris, until now they were on their way to spend the fashionable season in London.
Such rapid journeying had not been Ruth's original idea, but somehow after Jack's experience in Rome it had seemed best to keep her constantly busy, allowing as little time as possible for reflection or argument.
Faithful to her word, Jacqueline Ralston had not seen Captain Madden since the afternoon of her talk with Ruth. At that time, it is true, she had promised to wait only until an answer could arrive from her own and Ruth's letters to her guardian, Jim Colter, but later she had made a further promise to Jim.
Almost from the day of his arrival at the Rainbow Lodge, the overseer of the ranch and afterwards the girls' devoted protector and friend, had had a peculiar understanding of Jack's character. When she was a small girl, insisting on some order of hers being obeyed or angered because it had not been, Jim's "Steady, boss!" used always to help her control herself. For reasonableness was ordinarily one of Jack's strongest characteristics.Always she wished to be just and patient. Her wilfulness came not so much from original sin as because she had had too much her own way as a child and had had to depend too much on her own wisdom.
Her mother had died when she was a very young girl and her father not so many years after. Why, when Jacqueline Ralston was fourteen, virtually she was, under Jim's guidance, the head of a thousand-acre ranch, and a kind of mother to little Frieda and Jean.
So, though Jim Colter was more broken up by the news in Ruth's and Jack's letters than he had been by anything since Ruth's refusal of his love, he wrote to Jack with more tact than you could have expected from a big, blunt fellow like Jim.
It took him almost one entire night, however, to write the letter.
For one thing, he did not say that he believed just what Ruth Drew had written him of Captain Madden, nor did he mention Frank Kent's information, which painted an even worse picture of Jack's friend. Nor did he demand that Jack immediately break off her engagement or stop writing Captain Madden. He simply suggested, as he had in the old days at the ranch, that "the boss goslow" and would Jack agree not to see Captain Madden and not to think of him more than she could help, until Jim himself could find out something more about him? For of course Frank Kent might be prejudiced and Ruth might be mistaken. Jim would see to the whole matter himself, and Jack could surely count on his wanting to give every man a square deal.
Jack had at once agreed to her guardian's request. She realized that Jim's efforts must take time, as he was a long way from proper sources of information. So she had meant to be and had been very patient, trusting that Jim would never believe Captain Madden the kind of villain that Frank Kent had declared him.
Jack was reflecting on this now as the lights from hundreds of small houses along the line of the road blinked at her like so many friendly eyes. Probably Jim would let her hear what conclusion he had reached some time during their stay in England. She was rather dreading this visit to London. For not once had she seen Frank Kent since their interview in the hotel sitting room in Rome. Frank had come to say good-bye the next day, as he was leaving that evening forhome; but Jack had excused herself from meeting him. Now there would be no way of escaping, for Frank was Ruth's and the other girls' devoted friend, as he had formerly been hers. They would want to be with him as much as possible. Jack glanced at Olive. Had she not imagined several years ago that Olive liked Frank better than any other young man of their acquaintance? Certainly she had seemed to prefer him to Donald Harmon, in spite of Don's devotion.
Well, for the sake of her family, she must conquer her own unfriendly attitude. Candidly, she was sorry not to be able to like Frank herself as she once had. How much they had used to talk of her first visit to England! Then Frank had insisted that Ruth and the four Ranch girls were to make a long visit at his country estate in Surrey. He wished them to know his family intimately, as for several years he had been talking continuously of his western friends. Jack regretted the loss of this visit. Frank had made her almost love his beautiful English home in his homesick days in the west, when he was ill and had chosen her for his special confidante.
Just in time, a sigh that was about toescape into their compartment was surreptitiously swallowed. Ruth was stirring and begging Frieda to wake up. Olive and Jean were dragging down luggage from the racks overhead. And where the twinkling lights outside had been hundreds, now there were thousands. They must have reached the outskirts of London and would soon be entering the Charing-Cross station.
"I believe," announced Jack, who had not spoken for the past half hour, "that I have more real feeling about seeing London than any other city in the world. I think we have something more in common than just the language, baby." And she helped Frieda get into her traveling coat.
Perhaps Ruth had been asleep, for she appeared more than commonly flurried. "I hope you girls understand just exactly what we are to do," she began nervously. "I declare, I don't consider that I shall ever make a successful traveler, I do so hate the excitement and responsibility of arriving in places. I wish now I had allowed Frank to meet us. He was good enough to offer to come in from the country, but I declined."
"But, my beloved Ruth, what have we todo but get ourselves and our belongings into cabs and drive to our hotel? I will manage if you prefer it," Jack proposed.
Their train had stopped and a guard was opening the door. Several porters soon had their bags and steamer rugs, and almost before they were aware of what they were doing the five young women were following the men down the station platform, Jack in advance, Ruth and Olive together, and Jean and Frieda bringing up the rear.
Once inside the gate, however, the four girls were startled past speech on seeing the usually dignified Jack stop for an instant, clasp her hands tight together, then stare and with a cry rush forward and positively fling herself into a tall man's arms.
Their silence and stupidity only lasted for an instant. Ruth was next to run after Jack and seize the man's one disengaged hand.
"Oh, Jim, oh Mr. Colter, why didn't you tell us you were coming to London? I never was so glad to see anyone before in my life!" And this from the former dignified "school marm." Probably Ruth had never forgotten her reserve so completely in her life as at this moment. Tears of delight gathered unheeded in her eyes.
Jack and Ruth were both swept aside by the onslaught of Frieda, Jean and Olive.
"How on earth did you decide to come? When did you come? Why did you come?" Jean demanded all in one breath and then stopped to laugh at herself.
Jim was staring at the little party critically. He looked more western and unconventional than ever in his big, broad-brimmed, felt hat, his loose fitting clothes, with the tan of his outdoor life still showing on his strong, handsome face.
Jim's deeply blue eyes suddenly crinkled up at the corners in a way they had when he wanted to laugh or to show any particular emotion.
"Well," he drawled in his slowest and most exaggerated cowboy fashion. "I've been thinkin' lately that I was gittin' a bit tired of bein' everlastingly left at the post. Seems like you been acquirin' so much culture and clothes I was kind of afraid you might not want to know me when you got back to the ranch. I ain't so sure about the culture, but I'll capture the glad rags all right soon as you girls are able to go on a shoppin' party or so with me." And Jim, glancing at an Englishman just passing them, attiredin a top hat and frock coat, pretended to wink.
No one was deceived in the least by his poor pretense of a joke. Jim was really so much upset by the pleasure of seeing Ruth and the girls that he was talking foolishness to cover his emotion.
Frieda's break, therefore, saved them all "Oh Jim, won't you look too funny, dressed like a gentleman!" she exclaimed, and in mock wrath Jim marched the five of them off to their cabs.
RELIEF OR REGRET?
"TELL me what you have found out, Jim. I think I know why you have come all this way to London," Jacqueline Ralston said.
The man and girl were seated on a bench in Kew Gardens, the wonderful park a few miles out from London, two afternoons after the arrival of the Rainbow Ranch party. Ruth and the three other girls had gone to view Westminster Abbey. But Jack, pleading a need of fresh air, arranged for a few quiet hours with Jim.
The man rose and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, started striding up and down. His blue eyes were curiously gentle, but his mouth was stern. Indeed, he represented a strange combination of anger and nervousness. Finally, before speaking, he placed himself on the seat next Jack again, but this time so that he could look directly into her face.
Jack's eyes were down, her manner quietand reserved. The man had no way of guessing how his news would affect her.
"See here, boss," he began after a moment, "you and I've been pretty much on the level with each otherall the time, haven't we? We ain't tried to keep things back 'cause they hurt." He took the girl's gloved hand, patting it softly. "Sometimes, maybe, I've seemed harder with you, Jack, than with the others. But I always thought you'd understand. You kind of like to face the music, to know the worst and have things settled quick. Well—"
Possibly Jacqueline's face turned a shade paler; certainly her lips did. Nevertheless, they curved into a kind of a smile.
"Well, we aren't getting them settled very quickly today, are we, Jim?" she returned. "You are right, though, I do like to know the truth. What have you found out about Captain Madden."
"That he ain't no good," Jim replied, forgetting his grammar and all his carefully planned methods of breaking the unpleasant news to the girl. "Seems like the English know how to put it better than we do when they say a fellow is acad. I tell you, Jack, this is honest. I've found out every thing Icould from the time this man was a boy. He has never done an honest day's work in his life. Why, I even learned that he had written back to Wyoming to ask what the Rainbow Mine was worth. 'Course, I don't claim he don't care for you, child—most any man might be able to manage that. But to think of John Ralston's daughter and my old boss of the Rainbow Ranch marrying a man old enough to be her father, and such a man!" Jim had been trying his best to hold in, but now he swore softly under his breath. "Say, Jack, old girl, say you believe I'm telling you the truth. I hate to hurt you, the Lord only knows how much, but if you don't tell me you'll break it all off, I think I'll go plumb crazy." And Jim mopped the moisture from his brow, though it was a peculiarly cool day.
Jack was so painfully silent. Could a girl not quite twenty suffer much over an interrupted love affair? Jim did not know. He remembered his own grief when Ruth refused him. It had been awful! He carried the ache inside of him to this day. Glancing at the girl near him, he saw that the tears, which came so rarely, were now in her clear gray eyes.
"I believe you, Jim," she returned finally. "I believe you'd play fair with me and with Captain Madden even if you loathed the idea of my caring for him. Don't worry, old man. I promise this is the end. But, please, would you mind if I cried a while? No one is paying any attention to us and I think I'd like to very much."
Without waiting for permission, Jack's shoulders shook, and she covered her face with her hands. But a few seconds later Jim sighed so miserably that Jack slipped one of her hands inside his and held it close.
"I am not crying because my heart is broken, Jim dear," she explained; "I think I am crying because I am ashamed of myself. Sometimes I wonder how many lessons it will take before I learn not to be so self-willed. I have made things so hard for Ruth and for the other girls. Yet I believed what Captain Madden told me; I thought people were prejudiced against him just because he was poor. And I hate that. So when Ruth and Frank said such horrid things I told him I would marry him if you would give your consent. And, oh Jim, I have been so afraid lately—"
Jack began crying softly again.
"Been so afraid, poor little girl! If you only knew how I dreaded telling you this, I haven't had a good night's sleep in two weeks, and waiting for you to arrive in London nearly broke my nerve." Jim Colter probably had not shed any tears in almost twenty years, yet he looked perilously on the verge of them now.
Jack pulled at his coat sleeve uncertainly. "But Jim, dear, you don't know what I have been afraid of! I have been afraid you would discover that Captain Madden was all right and that I would thenhaveto marry him. I had given him my word. It would not have been honest to go back on it. You see, when we were in Rome I did believe I cared for him. He was awfully kind and interesting and different from any one I had ever known. Then I suppose I was flattered in thinking a so much older, wiser man could care for a stupid girl like me. And Ruth and Frank were dreadfully dictatorial. But since we left Rome, I've been thinking—I feel I have not been doing anything elsebutthink. And I realized that I did not really love Captain Madden. I felt as if I should die if he took me away from my family. StillI didn't know just what to do. I was so frightened, Jim, until I saw you there at Charing Cross."
Jim Colter took off his big western hat. The English sky of a June day can be a very lovely thing—soft fleecy clouds, floating over a surface of translucent blue. Jim looked up into it. "I thank Thee, Lord," he whispered reverently, and then, stooping over, kissed Jack.
The next moment he was up on his feet. And though he failed to electrify Kew Gardens by giving his celebrated cowboy yell, he waved his sombrero and the yell apparently took place inside him.
"Come on, Jack, let's do something quick to celebrate or I'm liable to bust with gladness!" he exclaimed. "This is a right pretty park we're in. I hear it's one ofthemost famous on the map, with every known tree growing inside it. Wouldn't you like me to buy it for you, or maybe you can think of some other little remembrance?"
Jack hung on to his arm and the man and girl started off on their sight-seeing expedition together, both feeling as though they were treading on air instead of the velvet softness of the English turf.
"I should like to go back and tell Ruth at once and apologize for being a nuisance," Jack confided, "but I don't want any one to guess I have been crying, and then Ruth will probably be mooning over tombstones in the Abbey until dinner time. I tell you what, Jim, we will have a wonderful dinner party tonight to celebrate and you can wear the new evening clothes you bought yesterday. Then, afterwards, you must take all of us to the theater. Now I have got you to myself, we might as well see Kew and have some tea. I am dreadfully hungry. You can bring Ruth some time by herself and I will promise to keep the girls away."
Jim did not answer. But, under the circumstances, it is perfectly certain that he could have refused Jack nothing in the world.
For the next two hours he could hardly keep his eyes off her. And he seemed especially happy when she devoured three English scones and drank two cups of strong tea.
"Ain't intendin' to pine away, are you, Jack?" he asked. And then, when the girl blushed, he laughed and held out his hand.
"Shake on it once more, boss," he demanded,"and you can count on this, sure thing. You ain't going to make but one man happier than you've made me this day. And that is when you say 'yes' to the right fellow."
RECONCILIATIONS
LATER that evening the four girls and Ruth were dressed and waiting in their sitting room for Jim Colter to come to them, when Frank Kent's card was sent up to their room. By accident the man at the door gave it first to Jack. The girl's face flooded with color, but she turned at once to Ruth.
"Frank Kent has come to see us," she explained, "and I want very much to see him by myself for a few minutes. If you don't mind, I will go down to meet him."
And as Ruth nodded, Jack disappeared.
Before she got near enough to speak to him, Frank realized that some change had taken place in his former friend since their last meeting in Rome.
For one thing, Jack looked younger and happier. Then she had on some thin white girlish dress, and was coming forward with a smile to greet him.
"I have been perfectly horrid to you,Frank, and I apologize with all my heart," she began immediately. "Yet you knew I had a bad disposition years ago, and still managed to like me a little. Please try again. Our dear Jim Colter is here from the ranch and has made me see things in the right light. But don't let's talk about my mistakes. We are having a dinner and a theater partytonight. Do join us. Olive and Ruth and everybody will be so glad."
In the elevator on the way upstairs to their apartment, Jack looked at Frank critically for a moment. Not until now had she been willing to make a fair estimate of the changes the two years had wrought in him.
In the first place she could see that Frank had grown a great deal better looking. He had lost the former delicacy which had sent him to the west, and seemed in splendid physical condition. He was six feet tall and had the clear, bright color peculiar to young Englishmen. Frank's expression had always been more serious than most young fellows', and this had been lately increased by his wearing glasses. Tonight, however, his clever brown eyes positively shone with relief. And though he could hardly dareexpress himself so openly or so eloquently as Jim Colter, Jack appreciated that he was unfeignedly happy over her escape.
Possibly the Rainbow Ranch party and their two men friends had never had a more delightful evening in their lives. They were in such blissfully good spirits. Indeed, each one of the seven felt as though an individual load had been lifted. And particularly because Jack appeared to be the gayest of them all. And Jackwashappy in feeling herself released from an obligation which lately had begun to weigh upon her like a recurrent nightmare. Moreover, she was particularly anxious not to have her family regard her as broken-hearted.
She whispered to Jean and Frieda before starting for the theater that they were to leave Ruth and Jim and Frank and Olive together as much as possible, for in so large a party it was necessary to make divisions.
Olive and Frank did sit next one another at the play, but the three girls were not so successful with Jim Colter and Ruth. For there was no doubt but that Jim avoided being alone with Ruth whenever it was possible. He had always been perfectly polite to her, but not once since the nightof their parting had he ever voluntarily spent an hour in her society, unless one of the Ranch girls happened to be present.
Of course Ruth was aware of this. What girl or woman can ever fail to be? Nevertheless on their way back to the hotel Ruth turned to Jim.
"Would you mind, Mr. Colter, staying in the sitting room with me for a little while after the girls have gone to bed. I am so anxious to talk to you?" And there was a gentleness and a hesitation in her manner that made it impossible for the man to refuse. Also, he understood what it was she wished to discuss.
Although Jim's manner was gay enough as he told the four girls good-night, Ruth saw with regret that it altered as soon as the last one of them had disappeared. He did not even sit down, but waited by the door, awkwardly fingering his hat like an embarrassed boy who wished to run away but did not quite dare.
Ruth did not ask him to have a chair. She, too, was standing by the open fire, with one foot resting on the fender and her head half turned to gaze at him. She looked a little unlike herself tonight, or else likeher best self. For the Ranch girls had seriously objected to their chaperon's nun-like costumes, which she had had made in Vermont, and insisted on getting her some new clothes in Paris, while they were making their own purchases. Ruth had objected but Olive had solved the problem. Each one of the four girls had presented Ruth with a toilet shortly before leaving Paris. And so much care and affection had each donor put into her gift that she had not had the heart to decline.
Tonight she was wearing Jean's offering, which had been voted the prettiest of the lot. Over an underdress of flame-colored silk there were what Jim considered floating clouds of pale gray chiffon. And at her waist, with a background of the chiffon, was a single flame-colored flower.
Ruth had lost a good deal of her Puritan look; somehow the man thought she seemed more human, more alive. She had a vivid color, and her hair, which Jean had insisted upon dressing, was looser about her face. Jim remembered the moonlight ride they had had together when a lock of her hair had blown across his cheek. Then he brought himself sharply to task.
Ruth had already begun speaking.
"Mr. Colter," she said, "there are so many, many things I want to say to you I hardly know where to begin. I know how you must feel toward me, how you must feel that I have utterly failed in my duty toward Jack, and how nearly I have come to allowing her to wreck her life. There is nothing that you can think about me that I do not about myself. Of course, you know, I erred through ignorance, and yet ignorance is no excuse. A woman with so little knowledge, so little tact—" Ruth's face was crimsoning all over and she had to put her handkerchief to her eyes to wipe away her tears.
Jim had stepped forward and stood towering above her so that he had to bend his handsome head to see into her face.
"Miss Drew, you are not to go calling yourself bad names and then declare that I feel as you say I do. Honest Injun, Miss Ruth, I haven't had a single one of those feelings about you. Since I have known about this tragedy that poor Jack has nearly gotten us all into, I have been plumb sorry for you with all my heart. How could a little New England girl like you know anythingabout an accomplished rascal like this fellow Madden? Yet I guessed if Jack wouldn't give in (and she is usually a hard-headed customer), why you'd be blaming yourself for a thing you couldn't prevent until the end of your days. I tell you, Miss Ruth, that thought, besides my love for Jack, kept me hot on that man's trail. And it even helped me break the news to Jack today, which was the hardest part."
Ruth looked up into the deeply blue eyes above hers.
"Jim Colter," she announced quietly, "I believe you are the very best man in the world."
But instead of being pleased, Jim drew back as though his feelings had been deeply hurt. "Don't say that, Miss Ruth," he begged. "And don't you go and believe because I don't mention it that I have forgotten that sin I committed a way back in my youth and the way it made you feel about me. You have been awfully good treating me so kind and polite whenever you have to meet me around with the girls. I've done my best not to worry you any more'n I could help."
"Oh, Mr. Colter, oh Jim," Ruth faltered,"please don't say a cruel thing like that to me. Haven't you forgiven me after almost three years? You must have known that in a few months, as soon as I got away from the ranch, I realized how narrow and foolish and blind I had been. You are a good man; you are the bravest, kindest, most forgiving in the whole world. And I don't care, I know you have forgotten about me long ago, but I want you to know I love you. It seems to me sometimes a woman must have the right to say this just to prove she can be as generous as a man. But I don't care whether I have the right or not. I am just saying it because it is true."
"For heaven's sake, stop, Ruth," the big man implored.
But the little New England school teacher, who had hardly ever dared show her real feelings before in her life, would not be silenced.
"Don't worry, Jim, I shall never regret what I have said, though I shall never speak of it again—and perhaps never see you after you sail for America."
Jim swept the little woman off her feet and held her for a moment to his heart.
"Don't you dare say a thing like that to me, child," he threatened. "And don't you believe you are going to lose sight of me more than a few hours at a time while both of us are living in this world. Why, you little white, New England snow-maiden. The very idea of your having the nerve to stand up right before my face and say you love a big, good-for-nothing, sinful fellow like me. But I kind of wish you'd wake Jack and the other three girls up and tell them we are going to get married tomorrow."
AN ENGLISH COUNTRY PLACE
TWO figures on horseback galloped rapidly across the English downs, the one a number of yards in advance of the other.
A low stone fence divided the adjoining meadows. But at a slight touch from its rider the first horse rose easily in the air, clearing the fence without difficulty. On the farther side it stumbled, plunged forward until steadied by the hands on its reins and came gradually to the earth upon its knees. Then the rider slid off and talking quietly to the horse brought it up on its feet again, just at the moment that her escort jumped the fence and drew up alongside her.
"Jacqueline Ralston, I take off my hat to you. You are one of the best riders I ever saw in my life. Goodness, but you gave me a nasty moment when you made that unexpected plunge forward and I had a vision of your going over head-foremost." Frank Kent's face was pale from the moment'salarm, but he tried making his voice as calm as possible.
"Yes, it was stupid of me," Jack returned. "There evidently was a hole this side the fence and I managed to make straight for it. Look, will you, Frank, while I get my breath."
Jack took the reins of both horses and waited for a moment, while the young man made the search. It required hardly a second, for the depression in the ground was only a few feet back of them. There it was a hole not more than twelve inches in diameter and half as many inches deep, yet of a peculiarly dangerous character for horseback riders.
"Suppose I had broken your father's finest riding horse's leg!" Jack exclaimed, when her companion had made the report and pointed out the spot to her. "Gracious, I should have been so sorry, both because of him and because of the horse, too!" Jack added. Having now given up both bridles into Frank's keeping, she continued patting the quivering sides of the beautiful animal, which had not yet recovered from its moment of danger.
"Let us sit down here a few moments and rest, Jack," the young man suggested. "I can tie the horses nearby and it will be agood idea to let them have a short breathing space. The others won't miss us for a while yet; we were too far ahead."
Several yards beyond there was a clump of old chestnut trees, and Jack sat down in the shade of one of them, where Frank joined her a little later.
Flinging himself down lengthwise on the ground, the young man rested his head in his hands, facing his companion.
Jacqueline had taken off her riding hat and was adjusting the heavy braids of her hair, which had become loosened by her plunge.
"I say, Jack, you do look awfully fit these days. You turned a bit pale a few moments ago, but now your color is as good as ever. I was afraid you might feel kind of used up. It was like you to start talking about the possible loss of a horse when you might have been smashed up," Frank began.
Jack laughed rather faintly. "Oh, I had a bad moment too," she confessed. "What is the use of pretending to be a heroine when it is not true? But one can't be laid up for nearly two years as I was without even being able to walk and face the chance of another accident with altogether steady nerves. And just when I was feeling exactly like my oldself. I tell you, Frank, this visit to your father and mother has been a beautiful experience for all of us. I can't tell you how grateful we are. I believe it has been this delicious outdoor life and the news of Ruth's and Jim's engagement that has made me absolutely well in a hurry, after taking rather a long time to get fairly started."
"It can't mean to you, Jack, what it has to me," the young man answered in such a queer, constrained voice that the girl looked at him curiously from under her downcast lids.
Jack wondered if he were going to tell her of his love for Olive. Earnestly she hoped that he would not—at least, not today. She hated this business of growing up. Perhaps her own unfortunate experience earlier in their trip had given her this foolish prejudice. That must be the reason why she had developed such an odd, choking sensation as soon as she believed that Frank intended making her his confidante. She wished that they might all remain good friends as they had in the past. How dreadful it would be to have to give Olive up—or Frank! Besides, think of Donald Harmon's feelings! A month ago Donald had joined them in England and sincehad been Olive's shadow. Indeed, the young man had not made the slightest effort to disguise his attitude. He was in love with Olive and did not seem to mind the whole world's knowing it.
But Olive! Jack glanced carefully at Frank and was glad to see that he was not looking at her, but was still trying to reach a decision. There could be little doubt in Jack's mind that Olive must prefer Frank Kent to Donald. Not that Olive had ever confided in her. But there had always been something in her friend's manner to make Jack feel this unconsciously. She believed that she had noticed it particularly in the past two weeks while they had been the guests of Frank's parents, Lord and Lady Kent, at their wonderful country estate.
Jack stirred. Then she must not be keeping Frank so long away.
The entire house party from the castle was spending the day in the woods, and the others must have halted somewhere nearer home and would be expecting them to return and join them.
"I think we had best go back now, Frank, please. I am not in the least upset by my near tumble," the girl announced. "Butyou will not mention it to Ruth or Jim or any of the girls? It did not amount to anything, yet I don't want Ruth and Jim to have the slightest shade of anxiety to spoil their beautiful time of being engaged. Poor Jim was desperate at first at the thought of waiting almost six weeks before his marriage, but now the ceremony is so near I think he would not have given up this time for a great deal. You see, he and Ruth are only going to take a week's honeymoon journey, as your mother has been good enough to promise to look after us. And then we are all going back to the ranch together. This time poor Ruth will be dreadfully well chaperoned."
"Yes, I know, Jack, but please don't go just yet. There is something that—" Frank hesitated. Evidently, however, Jacqueline had not heard him, for she had gotten up as she finished speaking and was moving off.
The young people found the rest of their party about half a mile back, where they had chosen their picnic grounds in the neighborhood of a brook. Jim and Ruth were not with them, but Olive and Donald Harmon, Frieda and Dick Grant, Jean and the young Italian, Giovanni Colonna, Lord and LadyKent and Frank's two sisters, Marcia and Dorothy, were sitting in a great circle and in the center was evidently a gypsy woman. Frank had met Dick Grant in London and thinking him a nice American boy had asked him down to Kent castle for the day. Giovanni Colonna had been his guest for a week.
Apparently the advent of the two newcomers had interrupted the flow of the fortune-teller's narrative, for she was standing perfectly silent with her big, rather impertinent black eyes fastened on Olive's face.
"Please send the gypsy away, Lady Kent," Olive begged. "She seems to be making up her mind to say something to me. And years ago I had such a dismal fortune told me by a gypsy who stopped at the Rainbow Lodge that I have never been able to forget it."
Frank was paying off the woman and telling her to be gone, so that he did not hear the next few moments' conversation.
"What did she tell you, Olive?" Frieda asked. "I remember we thought it queer at the time, but I have forgotten what it was."
Olive flushed. She had her old childish dislike of being the center of attention, and yet she had brought this upon herself.
"Oh, she told me that I was going to find out my parentage some day, and I have. Then she told me that I would inherit a large fortune." Olive glanced a little nervously at Donald Harmon, adding, "but of course that will never come true. And—and I can't remember much else. The story was told in a kind of jingle."
"Yes, and I recall it better than you do, Olive dear," Jack suddenly broke in. "The ridiculous woman suggested such abominable things about me. She said that without knowing it I was going to bring sorrow upon my best-beloved Olive. I don't know just in what way she meant it, but of course it was a ridiculous falsehood." And Jack flushed so hotly and spoke with such unnecessary intensity that her listeners laughed.
At the same time a man servant appeared, announcing that luncheon was about to be served. And Olive and Donald, who had been informed where the lovers were to be found, went off together to summon Ruth and Jim.
MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES
A FAINT knock at her bedroom door several nights after their picnic in the woods startled Jean. It was half-past twelve o'clock, and thirty minutes before all the guests in the castle had gone to their own apartments, an informal dance having made them more tired than usual.
But Jean was not a coward, and, still brushing her hair, walked over to her door. Immediately she heard Jack's voice on the outside.
"Please let me in, Jean dear, I hope I haven't frightened you." Then Jack slipped inside and stood irresolutely in the center of the big chamber. She was ready for retiring, clad in a pink dressing gown, with her hair hanging in two braids over her shoulders.
"I was kind of lonely," she explained. "It is very grand for each one of us to have an apartment to ourselves, but I am not used to it."
She sank down on a low cushion in front ofthe big open fire and in a few moments was staring into it, having apparently forgotten her cousin's presence in her own room.
However, without speaking, Jean went on quietly undressing. Then, when she had finished, she too got into a kimona and piled her grate high with fresh logs. The next moment she had placed herself on another cushion by the side of her unexpected visitor.
But Jean asked no questions.
"I hope you are not very sleepy, dear," Jacqueline remarked finally. "Of course you know that I wouldn't have disturbed you at such an unholy hour except that there was something important I felt I must talk to you about."
"It isn't—" Jean began. But to her intense relief Jack immediately shook her head.
"No, it isn't and never will be again. And the sooner that all of my family forget my miserable mistake, the happier you will make me. It is something different and yet it is such a kind of intimate, personal thing, I can't decide whether I have the right to mention it even to you."
"Ruth and Jim?" the other girl queried. For the second time Jack demurred.
"No." But she kept on gazing at the fire rather than at her confidante.
"See here, Jean," she inquired suddenly. "I wonder if it has ever occurred to you that Frank Kent cared, well, cared more than just an ordinary lot for Olive? Perhaps it does not seem exactly square of me to be prying into Frank's and Olive's feelings for each other, but on my honor I have a real reason for wishing to know."
Jean's big brown eyes opened wide with amazement. Was there any question in the world farther from her imagination than this unexpected one?
Notwithstanding, Jean gave the subject a few moments of serious consideration. "No," she replied at length, "I have been thinking over all the time I can recall from Olive's and Frank's first acquaintance with each other. And I don't remember a single occasion when he seemed more than just a good friend of hers. To tell you the truth, Jack, I personally should never have dreamed of Frank's being in love with Olive in a thousand years! Whatever put it into your mind? Why you and Frank, after you got over your first prejudice against his being the guest of our old enemies, the Nortons, were muchmore intimate than the rest of us. I always took it as a matter of course that he liked you best until you had that quarrel in Rome. Lately, though, you seem to have made up."
Jack frowned. "Oh, certainly we were more intimate then. But in those days Olive was too shy to reveal her real self or her emotions to anyone except us. Besides, we were only children. Still, I used to notice even then that Olive grew more cheerful and animated when Frank was around. And afterwards in Rome and the last month since our arrival in England, why haven't youseenthe change in her? Please think, Jean dear, for it may be of the very greatest importance what you tell me. You see, I am so stupid and make such dreadful mistakes about people caring or not caring for each other; but somehow you are wiser. I feel I may trust to your judgment. Do you think Olive—" Jack stumbled a little bit over the fashion for putting her next question. "Do you think that Olive likes Frank Kent better than anybody else?"
The silence was longer this time and Jean did not happen to catch a glimpse of her cousin's face, being too deeply concerned over her inquiry.
"I should never have conceived of such a thing myself, Jack," she declared after pondering for two or three minutes, "but as you have put it into my mind, why, possibly Olivemaybe interested in Frank. He has always been awfully good to her ever since their first meeting, and he thinks her wonderfully beautiful and charming. I can't say, though, that I am at all convinced that her feeling is serious. Oh, dear me, why can't you two girls be as frivolous over affairs of the heart as I am! I should like at least a dozen romances before I settle upon one."
"Well, I presume you are in a fair way to have them, sweet cousin," Jacqueline returned. "And tonight I feel as though I could almost echo your wicked wish. But, Jean dearest, I havegotto find out how Olive really feels. I can't tell you why now, yet it is of more interest to me to know than anything else in the world."
And suddenly Jack's face flushed with such a wonderful, radiant color that Jean caught her breath.
What she saw, however, made her turn her eyes away.
"I will find out for you if I possibly can, Jack," she then replied quietly, withoutasking any further questions or attempting to probe the mystery of why Olive's attitude toward their host should be of such vital import to Jacqueline Ralston.
"You know though that Olive is desperately shy and reserved," Jean added, "and has never confided in anybody except you and Miss Winthrop. Don't you think, after all, perhaps Olive likes Donald Harmon more than we guess? She and Don would be such a suitable match and her grandmother is so anxious for it."
But Jack shook her head. "No, I am afraid not," she returned and was not aware of how much the word "afraid" meant to her cousin's ears. "Olive told me yesterday that Don had asked her to marry him and that she had refused him. She told him that she would take the whole responsibility for the refusal upon her shoulders, that she would write her grandmother and explain that Don had done his best. The opposition to the plan had been hers. So Madame Van Mater must do as she had threatened and leave Don the larger share of the fortune. Poor Don was dreadfully broken up over Olive's thinking that he had asked her on account of her grandmother's desire, or because of the moneythat they were to share if she accepted him. Don honestly loves Olive, I think, though I don't believe she returns it in the least. Indeed, Olive told me that she had never given up her old plan of going out west to teach the Indians as soon as she feels she has learned enough through her studying with Miss Winthrop at Primrose Hall. Actually she announced that she was going to take a teacher's place there next winter for the experience it would give her. But of course I don't think that Olive means this not if she cares—if she cares for Frank." Jack got up from the floor. "Dear, I won't keep you awake any longer. Only there is one more favor I should like to beg. Will you stay with me as much as possible until you can find out what I have asked you?"
And Jean only nodded, as her cousin kissed her good-night and went away.
She sat for some time gazing into the fire instead of getting into bed. Not a particularly good mathematician in her school days, still Mistress Jean had rather a talent for putting two and two together under certain circumstances. She had not felt it fair to ask questions of Jack, yet there could be nothing disloyal in trying to penetrate amystery for herself. Especially as she should never betray her conclusions.
Jean pondered. In the first place there was not the least doubt in her own mind that among the four Ranch girls Frank Kent certainly liked Jack best. He always had liked her and it was perfectly plain how much her unfortunate affair with Captain Madden and her unkind treatment of him had hurt him, although he was not the type of man to betray himself so openly as Donald Harmon had. Jack's feeling for Frank, Jean had believed until tonight to be merely friendly. They had many of the same interests, both loved horses, animals of all kinds, and the business that went with the running of a big place like their old ranch or the immense estate, which had been in the Kent family for many generations. However, since the last hour, Jean was no longer assured of Jack's impersonal attitude. There was no doubt that her cousin had in her mind at present two fears—one that Olive, her dearest friend, cared for Frank, the other that Frank, instead of returning Olive's affection, was beginning to fall in love with her. Something must have recently occurred to give Jack this impression. Jean did notbelieve that she would ever have attempted to probe Olive's emotions unless this had been the case.
So here was the difficulty of the situation according to her train of thought. If Olive really did care for Frank Kent, Jean understood Jacqueline Ralston well enough to realize that nothing could induce her to accept his suit. For Jack would never accept her own happiness at the price of another's; and surely not when the other person was her dearest friend, for whom she had always felt a kind of protecting devotion.
Yet if Olive did not love Frank, and Jack felt herself able to return his affection, it would be both cruel and unnecessary to refuse to listen to him.
At last Jean tumbled into her big, four-posted bed; but even then she could not go at once to sleep. What a delicate mission she had taken upon herself and how ever was she to perform it? For Olive must never suspect any possible motive behind her questioning.