There lay a packet of yellowing papers.
There lay a packet of yellowing papers.
“I shall leave for Mexico tomorrow if Monsieur Peyton can spare me, but before I go I shall return alone to the shrine and leave the three crosses standing, firm and erect, in the memory of my grandfather.”
And this Trujillo did, going to the shrine at sunrise on the following morning. Then directly after breakfast, the Spanish youth rode away to the south.
“Girls,” Betsy cried, “how I do wish, before I have to return East, that we might visit the beautiful Carmelita Spinoza.”
“Stranger things than that have happened,” Virginia replied.
A few days after the departure of Trujillo, Virginia remarked one morning at breakfast, “Barbara, I feel much as you did when you were with us at V. M., a great anxiety, which I cannot understand, to return home and see if all is well with Malcolm. The truth is I have been away from him and from dear old Uncle Tex for so many, many months, that I feel sure they were sorry to have me desert them, and, so, if Margaret and Betsy are willing, I think we would better return to V. M. today.”
The pretty face of Babs plainly showed her disappointment, and Virginia hastened to add, “Won’t you come with us, Barbara, or, if not that, perhaps, Betsy would like to make you a longer visit here at Three Cross.”
A sudden hopeful brightening in the blue eyes of Barbara brought from her dear friend Betsy an immediate acceptance of the plan, and, so, an hour later, that they might start before the sun was high, the two who were departing bade goodbye to the three who were to remain and rode away, looking back often to wave and smile.
When at last they had crossed the ridge which hid the Three Cross Ranch from their view and were riding along the level desert, Margaret looked anxiously, inquiringly at her friend.
“Dear, you seem very thoughtful. Are you troubled about anything in particular?”
The questioner was more than ever puzzled when she saw the morning glow in the truly beautiful face that was turned toward her.
“No, sister of mine, I was thinking of something very wonderful, but just for a time it must be my secret.”
Virginia was recalling an hour that she and Peyton had spent alone the evening before, sitting on a huge boulder that was near the ranch house. It had been a gloriously moonlighted night, and, for a long time, they had remained silent, just content, it would seem, to be together in that truest and rarest of all forms of comradeship. Then quietly Virg had led Peyton to talk of his ranch, his interest, and of what he had done while she had been away.
Somehow, in the magic of the loveliness all about them, it had seemed but natural that the lad should tell her of his love.
“May I hope, Virginia, that some day, you will be here with me,—with us?” And Virginia’s reply had been seriously given. “Ask me that again when I am eighteen, will you Peyton?”
And with that answer the lad had to be content, but in it he found much to cause him to rejoice; much that gave him hope.
It was a strange coincidence, that, at that moment, as Virginia was thinking over the conversation of the night before, Megsy should ask, “Virg, who do you suppose will be the first girl of our acquaintance to marry?”
Her companion smiled, “Why dear, I don’t know,” she replied. “Babs and Betsy are far too young, some way, to even think of such things. Betsy declares that she is to be wedded to her career and Barbara, though she likes Benjy Wilson has not as yet even thought of romance.”
“Well, I am sure it will not be me.” Virg thought she heard Margaret sigh and this puzzled her. Quick was her response. “I’m not so sure of that, Megsy. You are so sweet and lovable, I know you will be stolen away from me long before I am ready to lose you.” Then, as they reached the top of the mesa, she continued happily, “Oh, how good it is to see V. M. Ranch again. This time I do hope that brother of mine will be at home to greet us. I have had so much change and recreation this past year that I actually feel guilty. It has been all work and responsibility for Malcolm.”
“I have a plan to suggest,” Megsy said. “Let’s insist that Malcolm take a two weeks’ vacation and go away somewhere so isolated that he could not possibly receive there a message about the ranch.”
Virg shook her head. “I don’t believe that we could persuade my brother to go,” she replied.
“I’m going to try,” was Margaret’s quiet response.
The girls entered the ranch house living room and stood looking about.
“How queer not to hear a sound,” Margaret said. “Why does it seem so much more still than usual do you suppose?”
“Perhaps because we do not hear the shouting of the Mahoy children,” Virg replied. “They are usually at play in the door yard at this hour. Let’s go over to their home and ask Mrs. Mahoy where everyone is.”
With a heart filled with an unaccountable foreboding, Virg led the way to the small adobe back of the big ranch house and nearer the dry creek.
As they approached they saw the four small children seated on the porch step huddled together. The oldest girl was softly crying, the two younger ones looked frightened, as though something had happened which they could not understand, and Patsy, though his lips were quivering, seemed to be trying not to cry.
Virginia leaped forward, and kneeling put her arms about the sobbing girl, then, looking at the boy, she said, “Patsy, lad, what has happened? Is your mother—”
She said no more, for the door opened and the little Irish woman appeared. She had on her hat and carried a bundle. The kneeling girl sprang to her feet. “Mrs. Mahoy,” she said with a new alarm in her heart, “where are you going? Has anything happened in the mine?”
The little woman nodded. “Indeed there has, Miss Virginia. It’s caved in somewheres. A boy from Slater’s just rode over to get you, but bein’ as you wasn’t here, I was starting mesilf. It’s thankful I am as ye’ve come, for I was beside mesilf entoirely not knowin’ what to do wid the children. Me Pat is all right, the saints be praised, but—” she hesitated.
“Malcolm, what about Malcolm?” It was Margaret who asked the question, her eyes thought of what might have happened to her guardian.
The little Irish woman hardly knew how to reply. “The boy said as how they hadn’t found him yet,” she told them, “but, like as not, they have by this time,” she hastened to add. “Uncle Tex went right back with the boy an’ I was goin’ mesilf with liniments and bandages.”
“I will take them, Mrs. Mahoy. You stay with the children.” Then turning to the other girl, Virginia added: “Margaret, perhaps you would better remain at home. I’ll send the Slater boy back with a message as soon as I know that all is well.”
She glanced anxiously at her adopted sister. There had been a long ride already that morning and Megsy was not as strong as the other.
“I am going with you,” was the quiet reply, and Virg knew that when Margaret spoke that way there was nothing more to be said.
Mrs. Mahoy had disappeared, but was quickly back in the open doorway, her hat removed. “Miss Virginia,” she said, “I’ve put the kettle on and in a minute now I’ll have a snack for you to be eatin’ before yez start on the ride to the mine.”
Half an hour later the girls were again in the saddle and were following the trail across Dry Creek toward Seven Peak Range. Virginia’s heart was filled with self-reproach, because she had permitted Malcolm to carry more than his share of the responsibility, and yet, how could she have helped it? It had been all work and no play for him ever since their father died. Suddenly she realized that Margaret was riding close at her side.
“Dear,” Megsy said, and there was a quiver in her voice, “try not to grieve yet. Wait until we know more. I feel sure that all is well with my guardian.” But was all well with the brave, strong, quiet Malcolm?
As the girls neared the Second Peak their anxiety increased. They could see men hurrying about near the mine and they urged their horses to greater speed. However, one man, chancing to look in their direction, seemed to be much concerned because of their rapid approach and, seizing a red flag, he climbed out on the over-hanging rocks and waved frantically, while another, leaping to his side, motioned the girls to stay back.
They then drew rein and Margaret exclaimed: “What can it mean, do you suppose?”
“I think they must be going to blast,” Virginia replied, her face white as she shaded her eyes and gazed intently in the direction of the seemingly excited men.
“But, how can they blast if Malcolm, if anyone is buried in the mine?”
“I don’t understand,” Virg told her, “but I’m not going to worry more than I can help until I know that there is really something to worry about.”
“One of the men is mounting a horse now,” Margaret said. “Perhaps he is coming to explain to us what is happening.”
This surmise proved true, for they saw a cowboy approaching them on a racing mustang. “It’s Rusty Pete from the Slater Ranch. At least our suspense will soon be over, for he will tell us what it all means.”
It was very evident by the expression on the face of the cowboy that he dreaded telling the message he had been sent to convey. So pre-occupied and concerned was he that he jerked upon the reins of his mustang in a manner which his steed wrongly interpreted and the result was that it reared and plunged and arrived in the neighborhood of the girls in so nervous a state that it was with difficulty quieted long enough for the rider to speak.
“What have you to tell us, Pete?” Virginia eagerly inquired, when at last the restive horse was for a moment standing with all four feet upon the ground, although it continued to whistle and paw the sand with its right fore foot.
Rusty Pete was evidently at a loss for words to express his message. “Your brother, Miss Virginia,” he began, “that is, they’re going to blast,” he hurried on as though he couldn’t complete the sentence he had started, “and they sent me to say, don’t come nearer, till they signal.”
Virg, believing that the cowboy was about to ride away again, leaned over and put her hand on his arm. “Tell me, Pete,” she implored, “what has happened to my brother?”
Before the cowboy could reply there was a flash of fire on Second Peak, an upheaval of rock and smoke, and a thundering noise that reverberated through the mountains echoing back from the far peaks, and then a shower of sand and bits of stone fell all about them. The horses, stung by the sharp edges of this unexpected fusilade, leaped and plunged, and it was sometime before they could be quieted. Excited shouts from the mine then attracted their attention. They turned to see another rider approaching them with all haste.
“It’s Uncle Tex, and he has good news, I am sure,” Virg exclaimed, “for see, he is waving his sombrero and shouting joyfully.”
Virginia leaped to the ground and ran toward the approaching horseman, who also dismounted and took the sobbing girl in his arms.
“Uncle Tex! Uncle Tex!” she cried “Tell me, has anything happened to my brother?”
“Thar! Thar! Miss Virginia, dearie,” the old man said, consolingly, though tears were trembling on his wrinkled cheeks, “something did happen to Master Malcolm, but he’s all right now. We sure had to take an awful big chance blastin’ that way, but we didn’t durst wait to ask what you’d have us do, we just had to do it, and Heaven be praised ’twas the right thing. Master Malcolm’s safe and they’ll be fetchin’ him along in a minute.
“You see, Miss Virginia, dearie, ’twas this a-way,” the old man continued. “Master Malcolm was bent on goin’ into a new tunnel along side of a vein that had just been opened. Pat Mahoy warned him as ’twasn’t safe yet, bein’ as the struts weren’t all up, but Master Malcolm said he was in a hurry to get back to V. M., to be thar when you gurls returned, and so he took the chance. Wall, Pat Mahoy says ’twas just as he prognosticated. Master Malcolm hadn’t no more’n disappeared into the new tunnel when there was a rumblin’ noise as Pat knew meant trouble. He ran shouting, but though he saw Master Malcolm turn back ’twas too late. The rocks and dirt up above crushed down, shuttin’ him out, but more rocks kept slidin’ down and ’twasn’t safe no how. Then ’twas they took the chance to blast the big rock from the openin’. When ’twas all over, they found Master Malcolm a little way in lying white as a ghost and most smothered, seemed like, but he came to, quick enough, when he was fetched out. Howsomever it will be a long time before he gets his strength back, I’m a-thinkin’. He’s all wore out anyway. I’ve been noticin’ it for months past, but he wouldn’t stop a peggin’, but now I guess as he’ll have to take a rest.”
Virginia saw a slow moving procession leaving the mine. She again mounted her pony and rode in that direction, closely followed by the others. A wagon that was used for hauling timber had been quickly changed by the miners into an ambulance, bedding having been piled on the cross boards, and, as it neared, the girls saw Malcolm lying listless as though he were too weary to move. However, when Virginia rode up alongside, her brother smiled wanly.
“I’m all right, Sis,” he said. “I tried to get buried too soon, I guess.” Then with a sigh as though the exertion of speaking had been too much for him, he closed his eyes, nor did he open them again during the long, slow ride over the desert.
It was with great difficulty that the crossing of the Dry Creek was made, but, in the late afternoon the anxious Mrs. Mahoy saw the procession slowly climbing up the sloping trail back of the ranch house. She hurried out to meet them.
“Was me Pat all right?” was her first query, and when she had received a reply in the affirmative, the little woman added: “It’s bakin’ I’ve been all the arternoon, Miss Virginia, for I was thinkin’ as thar’d be many to feed.”
“Thank you for you thoughtfulness,” the young mistress of V. M. said, with sincere appreciation.
Margaret assisted Mrs. Mahoy to spread the many good things on the long kitchen table that the miners who had accompanied them might have a hearty supper before their return to Second Peak.
Uncle Tex and Virginia meanwhile helped Malcolm into his own bed, and for the first time in many years the lad turned toward his sister and said: “Virgie, I’m so tired, tired clear through.”
“I know you are brother, dear,” Virginia said, as she knelt by his side and held his listless hand to her cheek. “I haven’t mothered you as much as I should have done, but from now on you are going to just rest. I don’t know yet what we’re going to do, but it’s going to be something different and wonderful.”
“Where, Oh where shall we take my brother for a complete rest?” Virginia had softly closed the door of Malcolm’s bedroom, having told that giant of a lad that he must sleep all of the afternoon.
He had laughed at the suggestion. It did indeed seem preposterous. In all of his nineteen years, he had never slept in the day-time. When his sister had left him, he determined to rise, dress and steal out of the window and down to the corral, but when he had tried to stand, he found that he was not as strong as he had supposed, and he was actually glad to lie down again, and, being truly weak and weary, he was soon asleep.
Margaret looked up from her sewing. She and Virginia were planning to cut over two of their dresses that were still pretty, but which they had outgrown. Megsy’s was to be for six year old Jane Wallace, while Virg was to make one for ten year old Sari.
“Are we really going to take my guardian somewhere?” she asked eagerly, adding at once. “I do hope so, Virg! What a heavy burden of responsibility he has had since your father died. I don’t know where you would find another boy, only sixteen as he was then, who would have the courage to attempt to run a big ranch and compete with men old enough to be his father.” Margaret’s voice had a ring of enthusiasm in which there was mingled much of admiration and perhaps something more.
But no praise of her brother seemed to the listener to be more than he deserved. Seating herself on the window seat, she took from a basket, (which had been made in the Indian village), a pretty gold brown dress. Holding it up, she asked: “Megsy, don’t you think this especially suits little Sari? There’s a glint of gold in that brown hair of hers and I’m not at all sure but that there is in her thoughtful eyes as well.” Her companion nodded. “I’m glad I have outgrown this rose colored muslin,” Margaret added. “Janey will just love it, and she’ll look like a little wild rose-bud in it. I think she’s the sweetest child, and Oh Virg, now since that nice Gordon Traylor helped Mr. Wallace to perfect his water locating device that forlorn family in Hog Canon won’t be so poor, will they?”
But Virginia shook her head as though she were not at all sure that immediate prosperity would follow. “Of course they have water now on their place, but water won’t buy cattle, nor food, nor clothes. I fear that prosperity is still far removed. Unless,” Virg had dropped her sewing on her lap and was gazing thoughtfully out of the window, “unless Mr. Wallace can induce some rich men to be pardners with him. Without capital, he cannot make his invention of much value to him.”
“Hark, what’s all the shouting?” Margaret looked up to inquire. “It sounds like wild Indians let loose. Isn’t it a shame, whatever it is, for it surely will waken Malcolm and we did so want him to sleep.”
Virginia had leaped to the door to see who was coming. “Oh, good,” she cried. “It’s Babs and Betsy and Peyton no less. Of course they don’t know about brother and so would not think of being quiet.”
Skipping out on the wide veranda, Megsy and Virg waved to the three who were galloping down the mesa trail, but they had ceased their shouting, having correctly interpreted Virg’s signal when she put her fingers to her lips.
“Is anyone sick?” Barbara inquired as she dismounted and gave the mistress of V. M. a girlish hug.
The other two listened anxiously. “Yes, that is, not exactly sick, but I’ll tell you all about it when you come in. There’s Patsy Mahoy.” The small Irish boy came on a run when Virg beckoned, and he was proud indeed when she asked him to take the three ponies to the corral. “Now we’ll go in and I’ll tell you what has happened. My, Betsy, you and Babs look flushed and warm. It’s pretty hot riding so far in the sun. Sit down, everybody, and I’ll go to our cooling cellar and bring up some nice lemonade that Megsy and I made only an hour ago, thinking that brother might like some every now and then.”
“Let me get it,” Margaret was on her feet as she spoke. “You can tell the story of the mine much better than I can.” And so Virg took the chair her adopted sister had vacated and told to anxious listeners how, when she and Margaret had returned from the Three Cross Ranch, there had been no one at all at V. M. Then from poor frightened Mrs. Mahoy they had learned of the cave-in over at the mine.
“Oh Virg!” Babs cried in alarm. “Your brother wasn’t hurt, was he?”
“No, thank heaven, not really hurt,” the girl replied with fervent gratitude, “but he was buried in that smothering place for several hours. Uncle Tex thinks there must have been an air current somewhere, or Malcolm could not have lived until they blasted.”
“Blasted!” Peyton repeated in surprise. “That was taking a big chance, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed! I shudder to think of it now, but then, when it was the only thing that could possibly save my brother, it had to be done of course.”
“And you say he wasn’t hurt in the least?”
“Not hurt, but he is so weak that he cannot stand alone, or rather he could not then, and now he is asleep I am sure.” Then turning to the listening lad, Virginia asked, “Peyton, where would you suggest that brother be taken to have as complete a rest as he needs. I would like to go to some place where even the scenery would be different and where he couldn’t see a cow or a cowboy or anything that would suggest his own occupation.”
For a thoughtful moment the lad looked steadily into the questioning eyes of the girl he loved. “Virginia,” he said at last, “if I were as tired as Malcolm is, I know where I would want you to take me.”
If there was an emphasis on the pronoun, it was unnoticed by the others, but a sudden flush in the cheeks of Virginia and a tender light in the eyes of the lad told more than mere words could.
But when the girl spoke, it was as though her only thought had been her brother’s welfare, as, indeed, it really had been.
“Once, in the days of my rambling life,” it was the first time that Peyton had ever referred to the time when he had run away from home because his father was unkindly severe, “I boarded the train in Boston and went to the end of the line, so to speak, and found myself in paradise, if ever there was one on this earth of ours.”
“Oh, then you must have been in California,” Margaret leaned forward to exclaim. “That, of course, would be the end of the line if you were crossing the continent, for there is nothing beyond but ocean. I went there once with Mother when she was trying to get well, and Oh, how wonderful it is! I’ve often hoped that I might go again, although I would not want to revisit the same place, not where little Mother and I were together.”
“Of course not, dear,” the thoughtful Virginia had slipped an arm about her adopted sister. Then glancing again at the lad who seldom looked at anything or anyone but her, she asked. “Then you think California the best place for us to take brother for a vacation and to get back his strength?”
“I do indeed. That’s where I’d want to go. Hark!” the lad lifted a finger and listened. “I think I hear Malcolm calling.”
“Oh yes, he must have awakened.” Virginia was skipping toward the closed door at the opposite end of the long living room. “If he is awake Peyton, I will call you.” Then the door opened and closed again. The lad walked to the window and looked out. How all of the brightness of the room had seemed to vanish when Virginia left it, he was thinking. Then he rebuked himself, for dearly he loved his pretty little “Dresden China” sister. He had heard the girls call her that, because she seemed so breakable and withal so exquisitely pink and blue and gold, with her fluffy sunlit curls, her eyes that were like June skies and her rose-bud complexion which the winds of the desert did not seem to want to tan. He did indeed, love her, but his love for Virginia was different, so very different! But God had planned it that way. Such love indeed was a gift from the Father of them all and was to be treated reverentially, although, who could treat it otherwise? It was with a start that the lad whirled when he heard his name called. Virginia had returned and was standing by the table pouring lemonade into a glass. “Brother has awakened and I have propped him up on two pillows,” she was saying. “Will you take this to him, Peyton, but don’t tell him as yet that we are planning to take him away from his beloved ranch, for, if you do, he will declare that everything will go to pieces if he isn’t here to hold it together. We’ve got to plan a way to make him think, that, for a time, V. M. will be better off, under different management.” Virg’s smile, as she handed the brimming glass to the lad, was so frank and friendly that he wondered, if, after all, it was merely comradeship that she felt for him. Well, he could wait. He had promised never again to mention his love for her until she was eighteen and she was but seventeen now. However hard it might be, he meant to keep that promise. Of one thing he was sure. Even though Virg might not care for him in the big way yet, neither did she love any other lad. When the door had closed behind Peyton, Betsy cried. “Oh good, here comes Slim from the station and he has the Mail Bag.”
“Letters!! Letters! Who wants a letter?” Betsy Clossen had skipped out to the wide veranda to receive the mail bag from the good-looking young cowboy Slim.
“I do!”
“I’ll take three!” Megsy and Babs cried in chorus.
“Oh Barbara, what a piggy-wig you are. Three indeed! Now, just to punish you, it’s Virg who shall have the three and you only one.” Betsy had poured the contents of the bag on the big library table and was looking it over. Margaret and Virginia had returned to their sewing. That latter maid found herself strangely indifferent to whether or no there would be a letter for her. This she could easily understand since, was she not at home with Uncle Tex and Malcolm, and the girls she liked best were right then in the room with her, and Peyton would not need to write her the weekly letter she had received while she had been away at boarding school. Betsy interrupted her thoughts by saying: “I was a prophet! Here are three letters for Miss Virginia Davis. Guess, Virg, if you can, who they may be from?”
That tall slender maiden, being addressed, dropped her sewing in her lap, as she replied, “I’d like to hear from dear Mrs. Martin. Is there a foreign stamp on any of them, Betsy? Our beloved principal must be in Japan, I suppose, about now, on her around the world tour.”
“Nary a foreign stamp. Well, since you can’t guess, I’ll give them to you and when you open them up you will know who they are from.”
“What a brilliant remark!” Barbara teased, but Virg having accepted the letters Betsy had handed her, attracted the attention of them all by exclaiming, “Well, if this isn’t the queerest! I’m just ever so sure that the handwriting on this envelope is Winona’s, but it is postmarked Red Riverton. What can she be doing up there? Ever since she wrote that she was back on the desert with that nice Indian lad, Fleet Foot, I have been hoping that she would come over to see us.”
As she talked, Virginia was opening the envelope. The first line in the letter caused her to cry joyfully, “Girls! Girls! Listen to this!”
“Dear White Lily,” the letter began. “I was married yesterday—”
“What! Winona married to Fleet Foot?” Margaret and Betsy exclaimed in excited chorus.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Virg told them. “Just wait a minute and we’ll find out.” Her eyes went rapidly down the sheet and then turning she gave Margaret an ecstatic little hug. “Oh, what glorious news! Think of it! Our wonderful Winona has married that splendid Harry Wilson. It seems that his mother has been ill for a long time and Winona has been there as nurse ever since we came from school. That’s why we haven’t seen her.” Then, turning a page, Virg read aloud:
“I had never even thought of marrying anyone. Of course I knew that most of all I admired Harry, but I believed that his mother would want him to marry one of his own kind, but, Virginia, can you think how great is my happiness when I tell you that his mother loves me, really loves me, and asked me to be her daughter.
“I have always been so alone, for my father, Chief Grey Hawk, and my brother, Strong Heart, were much away, that it seems strange to me that anyone should care.
“I told Harry that much as I love him, I feared that it would be hard for me to be as domestic as his wife should be, for there are times when I feel that I am kin to the wind that sweeps over the desert or to the bird that flies where it will. Then it was that Harry told me his own good news. He has received an appointment as state geologist and we are soon to start on horseback (our honeymoon we call it) and travel all over Arizona that he may obtain specimens of rock to send to Smithsonian Institute.
“We would not go were it not that Mrs. Wilson is rapidly regaining her strength and that her recently widowed sister in the East is coming to keep house, and to make this her home.
“I am sorry not to see my school-mates before we depart, but that cannot be, as we leave on horseback at dawn tomorrow and journey north.”
There were tears in the eyes of Virginia as she lifted them from the letter to look at her friends.
“How happy they are going to be,” she said, “I am glad for them both.”
“We were wondering who among us would be the first bride,” Betsy remarked. “We little thought, did we, that it would be Winona?”
Betsy Clossen had recognized her aunt’s handwriting on one of her letters and so when Margaret asked which was to be read next, that maiden eagerly announced, “Mine, please, for I do want to know what Aunt Laura has to say. If the quarantine has been lifted, she will want me to be coming home, and, although I have had the most wonderful time here on the desert, and I am endlessly grateful to you, Virginia, for having invited me, for you saved me from a most desolate month all alone in school, still, of course, if the twins have recovered, I do want to spend part of my vacation at my mother-aunt’s Cape Cod home.”
“I know dear,” Virginia replied, as she clasped her friend’s hand. “Although other places may be interesting, there is no place quite like the one that shelters our own home people. Read your letter and tell us about it.”
The missive did not take long to read.
“Darling girl,” it began. “I rejoice to be able to tell you that the quarantine has been lifted and that the twins are wild to see their best loved cousin Bettykins, and, as for me, my heart is yearning for my sister’s motherless little daughter, so come, dear, just as soon as the fastest train bound for the East can bring you to three people who so dearly love you.
“One of them being, YourAunt Laura.”
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Betsy told them. “I’m so glad somebody loves me that way. Mother and Aunt Laura were twins, and she seems more like a mother to me than my other two aunts, although, they, too, are nice.” Then putting her arms impulsively about her hostess, she exclaimed, “Virginia, how can I thank you for having been so kind, and you, too, Margaret.” She reached out and clasped the hand of her other friend. Then she asked eagerly: “Virg, shall you mind if I begin to pack at once and take the next train East?”
“Of course not, dear, I know just how you feel and we will help you, but if you really take the next train, we will all have to rush to get you ready.”
“My letters can wait,” Margaret said unselfishly. “They are from members of our Lucky Thirteen Club, and although I know that they will be filled with jolly news items, they will be just as interesting later.”
As Megsy spoke, she placed her unopened letters between the pages of a magazine on the table for safe keeping and then she joined the other girls who were already opening Betsy’s trunk, preparing to pack.
That maiden had skipped to Malcolm’s room to tell him the news, but she had found him asleep and, knowing that rest was one thing required to restore his strength, she had tiptoed out. Three hours later, she went again to his door, this time her hat and coat on.
The lad had been informed by his sister of Betsy’s sudden and unexpected departure and was prepared to say goodbye.
“Miss Cossen,” he said as he held out his hand, “I hear that you are a wonderful detective, and so, if we ever have need of your services, may we send for you?”
Betsy laughed. “Indeed yes, and don’t forget,” she replied, “for I know that I will be just as wild to come back as I am now to go home to Aunt Laura and the twins.”
Another three hours had passed and Margaret and Virginia were again in the living room having escorted Betsy to Silver Creek Junction, where the train, being on time, had borne her away.
“Well,” Virginia remarked as she sank down in a big easy chair, “what a whirl of a day we have had. I am almost dizzy-tired. First there was that exciting news about Winona’s marriage and then for the last six hours we have rushed madly to get that dear girl started for the place that is home to her. Now the next thing for us to do is to decide where we shall take Malcolm for a complete rest.”
“I like Peyton’s suggestion that we go to California. I wish he had been able to stay longer and tell us more about what he saw when he was there. He might recall just the very place for us to take Malcolm,” Megsy said.
“I invited them to remain all night,” Virg remarked as she took up her sewing, “but Peyton thinks, now that his trusted overseer, Trujillo, has gone back to Mexico, that he had better not leave his ranch long at a time until he has another equally dependable.” The two of whom they were speaking had ridden back to “Three Cross” when Margaret and Virginia had accompanied Betsy to the station at Silver Creek.
“What did I do with my letters, Virg?” Margaret had suddenly recalled that she had not opened her mail. “I put them into something for safe keeping. Oh yes, here they are! Why, I declare. One of them is for you.”
“Oho, this is great! It’s from Eleanor Pettes! I was hoping to hear from her soon. She told me when she came to our closing exercises at Vine Haven that she had written a story which she believed to be the very best thing she had ever done and she was actually going to send it to a real magazine. I suppose by now she has heard from it. How I do hope that it was accepted.”
“Eleanor writes so exceptionally well and had so much experience editing the school magazine before she went to college prep that I am sure, in time, she is bound to succeed,” Margaret was remarking when her companion, having opened the letter, uttered a little squeal of delight.
“What is it, Virg? Has Eleanor sold her story? I am sure by the way your eyes are shining that there must be good news.”
Virginia had continued to silently read down the first page, then she looked up, her face aglow. “Good? It’s glorious! Just wait until you hear.” Then she read aloud from the delicately scented missive:
“Dear Kindred Spirit,
“If I were not afraid of falling from the literary pedestal upon which I know that you two girls have placed me, I would begin this letter with some expressive school girl slang. ‘Gee whiliker, but it’s corking good news.’ But since Betsy Clossen can use that more naturally than I can, I’ll simply say that I am amazed beyond comprehending what this wonderful thing is which has happened. I find myself rubbing my eyes and pinching myself as did Alice in Wonderland. ‘Can it be really true?’ I ask myself a dozen times a day. Then, fearing it to be but a dream, or a plot that I have planned for a story, I go again to my desk and take the letter therefrom and re-read what it has to say on the subject. You never could guess what it is, no one could. I couldn’t myself if I didn’t know, so I will have to tell you.
“I have inherited Something. I just had to start that with a capital letter, for the inheritance surely deserves it. In fact it ought to be all capital letters. Have I sufficiently aroused your curiosity? Well, then, harken and you shall hear.
“A great-aunt of my Dad’s (goodness knows how old she was, I don’t), has left me her estate. Think of that, Virginia, if you can grasp a thing so stupendous. I’ll agree it’s very hard to believe all at once and sudden like. This same estate, it seems, is located in the Garden of Eden, not figuratively, but really true. The name of the place, however, on the railroad map (I don’t suppose it’s big enough to be on a school geography), is San Ceritos and it’s in California, that Paradise-on-earth that you and I have heard so much about. When I say that I am wild to behold it with my own eyes, I only faintly describe my feelings. Think of it, Virg, you who love nature as much as I do, this estate of mine has mountains to shelter it at the back and its wooded acres slope down to the sea. Dad says that the water in that sheltered cove is at times as blue as the Mediterranean, and I own it; or, that is, I own half of it, but the mysterious part of all this is that I don’t know who owns the other half and I haven’t any way of finding out. The will is the queerest!
“Dad says that his Great-Aunt Myra was always called eccentric by everyone who knew her. It seems that when she was a young girl she was engaged, but on the very eve of her wedding day something happened. Dad doesn’t know what, but his Great-Aunt Myra never married.
“Dad’s parents came East when he was a little fellow, and, although he heard now and then of this aunt who had shut herself up in her mountain and sea-encircled home, neither he, nor any of the kin that he knew of, had really corresponded with her. She didn’t even know of my existence until last year and it was just the merest chance that she learned of it even then. It happened this way: You remember last winter in school when we girls had such a fad for looking up our family trees. Well, when I came home for the holidays, I asked Dad to tell me about every Pettes he could think of. It was a stormy night and we sat in the cosy library by the fireplace and I wrote down on a pad all the names and addresses he could recall. At last he came to this great-aunt. He just happened to think of her, and, girls, what if he hadn’t? I decided to write to each of these relatives, and, since Aunt Myra was the oldest living branch on the family tree, out of courtesy I began with her and sent her my picture, the one I had taken last May Day at school. I didn’t hear a word in reply, I wasn’t even sure that she had received it, until last week a legal-looking envelope arrived addressed to me. It contained the startling information I have just imparted.
“Well, as I said before, the will of my Dad’s Great-Aunt Myra is surely the queerest. One might think that the dear old lady wasnon compos mentis, but no, her attorney and servants report that up to the last her mind was sane and sound. Of course, I am glad, for, if she had not been mentally all right, the will, queer as it is, would have been null and void, and your Kindred Spirit would not be writing this thrilling epistle to tell you of her almost incomprehensible inheritance.
“The will, of course, is couched in high-sounding legal terms, and so I’ll just tell you the gist of it.
“‘I, Myra Pettes, do hereby will and bequeath one-half of my estate, located between the Sierra Padre Mountains and the sea, to Eleanor Pettes, the daughter of my grand-nephew, Oris Pettes, on condition that she never opens the locked door of the upper front room until she has found Hugh Ward, to whom I will and bequeath the other half of my estate. When he has been found, they are to enter the room together.’
“Did you ever hear of anything like that outside of a story-book? Of course,ina story queer things are to be expected, but in the humdrum life of a school girl one doesn’t anticipate occurrences so mysterious and exciting.
“Hugh Ward! Who in the world do you suppose he is? Dad says he never heard the name before, and even Great-Aunt Myra’s attorney reports that he has no knowledge whatever of the man, young or old. They have advertised in every paper in the country, but have had no reply. I suppose he is some very old gentleman whom my Aunt Myra knew when she was young. Perhaps we ought to hunt for him in a ‘home for the aged and infirm.’
“Well, be that as it may, I am supposed to go West and occupy my new possession; that is, all but the locked front room, and, since the housekeeper, in sending a description of the place, informs me that there are twenty rooms, ten of them being sleeping apartments, I presume I will be able to get along without entering the one that is locked. I don’t see how one lone-maiden can occupy ten bedrooms. Dad is obliged to go to Europe this month.
“Now harken and hear something which I think thrilling. Dad says I may invite you and Margaret and Babs and the brothers I have heard you tell about, Peyton and Malcolm, to accompany me when I visit my new estate. I’m to have the use of Dad’s private car. For once I’m glad he is a high-up railway official, and I’ll telegraph you at what hour we will side-track at Douglas. If you can accept, be there bag and baggage. I’m so excited I can hardly keep my feet on earth. Sometimes I feel as though I were going to spin away up in the air. Goodbye for now. I’ll telegraph tomorrow.
“Your K. S.\ \ \ \“Eleanor.”
Virginia looked up with glowing eyes. “It sounds like magic, doesn’t it?” she inquired. “We wish for a place to go, in fact, we were wishing that we might go to this very California, and here is a letter inviting us to do so.”
Margaret was equally delighted and excited. “It’s perfectly wonderful,” she agreed. “But, Virg, I didn’t suppose that dignified girl could be so, well, girlishly jubilant about anything. Maybe because she was a senior at school, I always thought she was unusually mature, I mean.”
“News like this is enough to make any one act hilarious,” Virg declared. “Moreover, although Eleanor has a dignified carriage, I know that she is very enthusiastic about ever so many things.”
“Of course, you know her much better than I do,” Megsy agreed, “since it was she who showed you how to edit the school magazine, and, of course, you had an opportunity to get better acquainted, as you spent hours together. I don’t wonder that Eleanor calls you ‘Kindred Spirit.’ I always did think that Winona and Eleanor were more mental companions for you than any of the rest of us. Don’t think I’m jealous, Virg. Honestly, I am not. I am glad that you do love them, and even more glad that I have something no one can take from me, and that is the great happiness of being your adopted sister.” Then rising, Megsy held out her hand as she said, “If Malcolm is awake, let’s read the letter to him and then tell him our plan.”
Silently Virginia rose and tenderly she kissed the quiet Margaret. “I do love you, little sister, and you occupy a place in my heart that no one else shall ever have.” Then with arms about each other, they went softly toward the closed door.
Malcolm listened to the enthusiastic chatter of the two girls, who, having read Eleanor’s letter to him were each trying to outdo the other in thinking up arguments that might persuade the lad that accepting the invitation was the very best thing that he could do and just what he should do to regain his strength.
“But who will conduct the V. M. Ranch? Tell me that,” the lad protested.
“Uncle Tex was overseer whenever Dad went away, and if our father could trust his judgment, surely we can.”
“Righto, and, with such able helpers as Slim and Lucky, I really have nothing to fear on that score, and yet, of course, they might need my advice now and then. Did your friend, Eleanor, mention a town from which one could telegraph?”
“Why, no, she didn’t, but of course there are towns everywhere. However, that is the one thing we want to get you away from, a long distance telephone or any other method of easy communication, for every day you would be wanting to call up and find out if V. M. were all right.”
Then, as Malcolm still hesitated, Virg hastened on to say, “Of course, I didn’t know that we might go to California, as I only just now received this letter, but Ididknow that we wanted to gosomewhere, and so, yesterday, I talked it all over with dear old Uncle Tex and he agrees with me that it is your duty to all of us to go where you can rest and when I said, ‘You could take charge of V. M. just as you used to do for Dad, couldn’t you?’ Well, Malcolm, I wish you could have seen that dear old man’s face. Glowing doesn’t describe it. ‘Miss Virginie, dearie, Ah’d take it as powerful complimentin’ if Malcolm’d trust me, Ah sure would, an Lucky an’ Slim’d stand by me, that’s sartin’, was what he said, and his voice trembled, brother, honestly it did.”
“I know how he feels,” the lad declared earnestly. “Uncle Tex has felt much like an old horse may, one that we feel has outlived its usefulness and is given pasturage for the rest of its life. Dad told us that he once had a horse like that. He thought it had served him long enough, and so he did not permit any of the boys to ride it, but after a time, he noticed that the old horse used to come up to the bars when its companions were being saddled and actually looked wistful, as though it were being left out. Then came the day of the great stampede. You’ve heard Father tell about it time and again, Virg, how the boys were all away helping Mr. Slater with his roundup, and only old Peter left in the fenced-in pasture. The boys had cut out our cattle and had started them for home, Dad says, when all of a sudden he heard a noise that sounded like distant thunder. As it neared, he knew it to be the pounding of hoofs; then he could hear the bellowing of frightened cattle. He was alone on the ranch and the only horse nearby was old Peter.
“Dad ran to the rise of ground above the dry creek and saw that the maddened herd was swerving toward the north and might be lost in that waterless part of the desert called ‘The Burning Acres.’ While he was wondering what could be done to stop them, he heard a shrill whistling neigh from old Peter. Dad turned in time to see that horse race across the small pasture and leap that high-barred fence, nor did it stop, but kept on galloping as it had in its younger days, directly toward the mass of surging cattle. Dad said he was sure the old horse would be trampled to death. Many a time, in years gone by, he himself had ridden Peter when he wanted to turn cattle back, and now, though riderless, the old horse seemed bent on doing that very thing. Dad said he held his breath, but the unexpected happened. The cattle, not knowing what to make of the horse that was hurling itself at them, did swerve, and then, to Dad’s great joy, they descended into a dry creek where, since they could not run, they were soon under the control of the cowboys who came riding on ponies that were covered with lather.”
“What of old Peter?” Megsy inquired. “Did he die then from exhaustion?”
“Indeed not!” Malcolm told her. “And never again was he treated as though his days of usefulness were all over. Dad himself rode him, not on hard rides, to be sure, but whenever he was just going to the station or to visit with a neighbor, and, after that, the old horse seemed much more content.” Then turning to his sister, the lad said, “I recalled that story when you told me how almost wistfully eager Uncle Tex was to be once more trusted as overseer of the place. And he shall be, too. Dear faithful old man.”
“Then you will go with us? You will let us take you to this wonderful San Ceritos?” the two girls cried at once.
Laughingly the lad held out a hand to each of them. “Damsels fair,” he said, “take me wherever you wish, but now please depart. I wish to lay my plans.”
Then Margaret accused, “Malcolm, there are twinkles in your eyes. I do believe that you are amused at something.”
The lad, who still held the hand of his ward, turned and looked at her, then he smiled again as though he were pleased with what he saw, as indeed he well might be, for Margaret had been so excited that her cheeks were flushed and as pink as roses, while her dreamy brown eyes were shining like stars. Then, as the lad continued to gaze at her, the color deepened, and, withdrawing her hand, she said mischievously, “Virginia, perhaps we better go, since Malcolm has just told us that he prefers his own thoughts to our company.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” the lad declared. “I’d rather have you stay.”
Virginia, who for the last few moments had been busy in another part of the room, turned suddenly and looked intently at her brother as though she were surprised about something. He was usually so serious, so occupied with business that she had forgotten that he could tease. Then her face brightened, and stooping, she kissed him lightly on the forehead. “You are much better, dear, aren’t you?” she said, then taking her friend by the arm, she continued, “Come, Megsy, let’s hie us to our rooms and select the wardrobe we are to take with us. Eleanor’s telegram may come tomorrow and we will then have not more than three days to prepare for the journey.”
Late that afternoon the two girls went out to feed the hens and then, as was often their custom, they climbed the trail to the mesa that they might watch the sunset. On their return, Margaret gathered a few late desert flowers to place on the table beside Malcolm’s bed. It was still daylight when they returned and Megsy went at once to the closed door and tapped thereon. There was no response. What could it mean? Even if Malcolm had fallen asleep, the rapping would have awakened him. Beckoning to Virginia, she whispered anxiously, “Oh, Virg, what can have happened? Your brother can’t have lost consciousness, could he?”
There was a sudden terror in the heart of Virginia. Leaping forward, she turned the knob, but the door was locked. Before they could be thoroughly frightened, however, they heard a merry laugh, and there stood Malcolm back of them. He had on his nice wooly bathrobe that the girls had given him for Christmas and his comfortable slippers.
“You see,” he apologized, “I’ve never had an opportunity to wear them before, because this is the first time I’ve ever been even near sick, so please don’t scold, and Ididwant to get up and have supper with you girls. It seems to me that I’ve been in bed for weeks.”
“One, only, to be accurate,” his sister corrected. “Malcolm, you sit down in this easy chair at once and let me feel your pulse.”
“Very well, nurse,” the lad smilingly complied. In fact he was glad to sink into the big comfortable chair, which was drawn close to the hearth. He wasn’t as strong as he had expected to be. Virginia brought a knitted blanket to put over his knees while Margaret put sofa pillows back and around him.
“If I’m treated this way,” he beamed, “I’m not at all sure that I’ll want to get well.”
“Let’s have our supper in here by the fire,” Virginia suggested.
“Oh yes, let’s,” Megsy seconded. “Now, what ought our patient to eat? Bring me a pencil and paper and I’ll write my order.” There was again that merry twinkle in the eyes that were often so serious.
Margaret skipped to the big writing desk and returned with the requested materials. “And while you think about it, Virg and I will prepare for the feast.” They brought Virginia’s work table from her room and spread it with a dainty lunch cloth and put Margaret’s red blossoms in the center. “I don’t see what Malcolm can be writing,” Virginia said. “He ought only to have eggs on toast or something like that.” But when a moment later she looked at the paper which the lad gaily presented, she said, “Why Malcolm Davis, you’ve ordered everything that you ought not to have. Creamed oysters, of all things!”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t hurt him,” interceded Margaret. “And you know the thing you have a hankering for is supposed to be what you need.” Then clapping her hands girlishly, she exclaimed, “Oh Virg, please say that we may have them. I’ll get the chafing dish out of my trunk. You know what fun we had in school with it. Then you get two cans of oysters, the milk, butter and seasoning, and we can prepare it all right here on the table. Wouldn’t that be jolly?”
Virginia agreed that it would. Then she prepared the toast while Margaret, flushed and happy because she could do something for her beloved guardian, stirred up the cream sauce and dropped in the oysters. Malcolm, leaning back in solid comfort, watched and admired. At last he commented, “Did ever a chap in all the world have two such sisters to take care of him!”
There was a sudden twinge in the heart of Margaret. What could it mean? Surely she was glad, glad to have the splendid Malcolm call her “sister.” There was a note of tender wistfulness in her voice, which she herself did not know when she replied, “We would do anything, give up anything, Oh, it doesn’t matter what, if it would add to your happiness, Brother Malcolm.” Almost unconsciously the girl was thinking of the time that would surely come when someone, perhaps now unknown to them, would take in his life a place closer than that of sister.
“Toast’s ready! How about the creamed oysters?” Virginia looked up from the hearth where she had been kneeling.
“It’s done to a turn.” Megsy’s voice was merry once more. Then Virg put the buttered slices of toast on each plate, and Margaret placed dainty portions of the creamed oysters on them.
Malcolm ate with greater relish than he had since he had been ill or rather exhausted, for he had no definite malady, just extreme weariness. When he asked for a second portion, he pretended to look imploringly at Virginia as though he feared she would say, “You have had sufficient for tonight.” And, indeed, maybe she might have said something of the kind, but Margaret was refilling his plate and it was too late to protest.
When the dainty little meal was over and the small table had been carried away, Malcolm smiled contentedly at the two girls, who sank into nearby chairs, the light from the fire falling on their faces. For a time they were silent, each thinking his or her own thoughts. At last Malcolm said, “Virg, are they worth the proverbial penny?”
The girl looked up brightly. “I was wondering how we are to convey Eleanor’s invitation to Babs and Peyton,” she replied. “I do hope that they can accompany us.”
The next morning before daylight Margaret was conscious that someone was stirring in the room next to hers. Becoming more fully awake, she rose, drew on her kimono and slippers and tiptoed to the door which stood open between the bedrooms of the two girls.
In the dim grey light she saw Virginia dressing. She was donning her riding khakis.
“Why, Virg!” Megsy exclaimed in surprise, “where away so early? You aren’t going to ride to the Three Cross Ranch, are you, to tell Babs and Peyton about the invitation?”
“Not this morning, dear. I want to wait until we receive the telegram from Eleanor that I may be more definite in what I have to tell them.”
“Then, where are you going? I might guess the Papago Village, only I know that Winona is not there.”
Virginia smiled brightly. “It’s an odd fancy, this of mine,” she confessed, “but last night I had a dream; one of those wonderfully realistic dreams when you feel sure that you are awake and that the something is actually happening. I dreamed that you and I had ridden over to Hog Canon to see the Wallace family. You know, Megsy, my conscience has troubled me because, after our first visit, I never went again and that was at least three weeks ago. Mrs. Wallace and the children have so little to interest them that even a visit from their neighbors seems like a treat.”
Megsy, seated on the edge of the bed, remarked, “I don’t believe they feel that way about neighbors in general, but just about Virginia Davis in particular.”
The girl, who was lacing her high riding boots, looked up with a smile. “My friends spoil me, don’t they, Megsy. It’s well that I know myself as I am not as they try to picture me. While I’m gone, will you take good care of my brother? I want him to stay in bed all morning, though you may have Sing Long make him some nice broth at ten if you will. However, I expect to be back long before that.”
Virginia had not asked her friend to accompany her and Margaret, though she had thought of requesting to be allowed do so, believed that for some reason Virg wished to be alone, nor was she wrong.
It was still the grey of early dawn when the girl ran down the trail leading to the small pasture where the ponies remained at night. Some of them were lying down and others were tugging at an enclosed haystack which was kept filled with the long desert grass that grew in the valley pasture, a mile from the house. But one among them whinnied as the girl approached and, kicking up frolicsome heels, he cantered to the bars, knowing well that his mistress was about to let them down. And he was right.
“Good morning, Comrade,” Virginia said as she smoothed his nose affectionately. “Would you like to take me for a ride this morning?”
Again the pony whinnied. “Of course, I knew you would, and if you won’t tell, I’ll tell you a secret. I wanted to be all alone just once more before I go away. There’s something I want to think about. It doesn’t have to be decided just yet; not until I’m nearer eighteen, but I do want to be thinking about it.”
Then kissing the flipping ear of her apparently interested companion, the girl started on a light run to the shed near the great windmill where the saddles hung. Comrade, with colt-like antics, followed. It was evident that he was trying to express the joy that he, too, felt at being the only companion his loved mistress desired.
They had crossed the dry creek bed and had climbed up on the high opposite bank before a flush of rose appeared in the eastern skies. Virginia drew rein and sat for one long silent moment watching the loveliness of the dawning day. A fleecy white cloud near the horizon became opalescent with first one exquisitely delicate color and then another. Then with a burst of glory, the sun rose in sheets of flaming gold and the desert, which had been like a gloomy waste of desolation but a moment before, was transformed to a wide billowing expanse of shimmering silvery-grey.
Jack rabbits fearlessly gamboled about the girl and pony; birds sang and a wren darted from its nest in the top of a choya cactus to contentedly return again to its wee young when it knew that the one who was passing by was a friend of all things that live.
The trail dipped into a hollow where mesquite grass grew. Instantly there was a whirring rush of wings and a flock of quail soared high into the air, to whirl, a moment later, and settle back to their former feeding place. It made the heart of the girl rejoice because her wild neighbors seemed to know that she was one of them.
“We’re all kin folks, somehow, though we can’t understand, and why try, since the sages of all time have not yet been able to tell how a wee seed can fashion a flower. After all, Comrade, if we’re just kind to every form of life we meet on this wonderful earth, I think we will have done the best we know.”
There was a long stretch of sand to be crossed before the Seven Peak Range would be reached and the girl, watching the trail ahead, gradually became unconscious of all about her and was once again on the rock in the moonlight with the lad who loved her at her side.
“I might think that I care enough to marry Peyton,” she was thinking, “but would it be quite fair to others? There are Barbara, and Malcolm and Margaret to consider. I just couldn’t leave my wonderful brother all alone on V. M. My adopted sister I might take to Three Cross with me, if I went to live there, but Malcolm—I just can’t leave him! First he lost the mother whom he so idolized, and then our father, and never did a boy have a closer pal than Dad was, and now if I go, he will lose his only sister and be so lonely and so all alone. I only wish he might meet some nice girl for whom he could care as Peyton cares for me, but he does not seem to feel the need of love; I mean, not that way.”
Then it was that another thought suggested. “Perhaps it is just because he has you that he has not thought of bringing another mistress to V. M. Perhaps he would care for someone, if he knew you were going away.”
Suddenly there was a rush of tears in the violet eyes, and impulsively leaning her cheek against her pony’s head, Virginia said with a little half sob, “Oh Comrade, I don’t believe after all that I really care for Peyton as much as I should, for I can’t bear the thought of leaving my very own home where Mother and Dad were so happy and where I have been so loved. I can’t think of any other girl I would want there, but just Margaret, and, of course, she would want to go with me.”
Then looking up with a smile that flashed through the tears she held out her arms to the shining sky. “Little Mother,” she said softly, as though she were really addressing someone, “I am forgetting that you told me to let my life blossom as quietly and trustingly as a flower unfolds, knowing that the right thing will come at the right time.” Then again the girl ruminated, “How topsy-turvy would be this universe of ours if the flowers said to themselves, ‘Dear me, I wonder now if I’d better open up my petals to the sun; no telling how soon clouds may come and my bloom spoiled in a storm.’
“Comrade, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to trust, and let my life blossom as it will. What would Brother Malcolm think if he knew that I am trying to marry him to someone whom as yet he doesn’t know?” Then as the canon trail had been reached, Virg turned her pony’s head that way and slowly began the ascent.