hut, the coyotes in her
lap, while all of Pancho's brood, not to mention Pancho and his fat
Marta, were hanging about her in an eager, admiring circle. Every
little "greaser" on the ranch adored the Senorita, and she was
godmother to half the babies born on the place. Alec bade fair to be
almost as popular as she, for he was always ready for a romp and had
an unfailing supply of nuts in his capacious pockets. The visit now
ended in a "rough-house," Alec with his ever-handy lariat lassoing the
fleet-footed boys and pretending to take them prisoner, while they
dodged and ran and kept up a shrill chorus of baby Spanish that
delighted his soul.

Later he and Blue Bonnet walked to the stable and put the coyotes down
for the night; choosing the unused manger again as being secure
against the impertinent investigations of Don and Solomon, and deep
enough to prevent the venturesome babies from falling out. It was
almost dark as they strolled back towards the house, lingering and
chatting and drinking in the beauty of the night. The lovely southern
sky was studded with stars; the breeze laden with perfumes that only a
Texas prairie knows; and the air full of melody,--the deep laughter of
the cowboys lounging about the bunk-house, and the sweet tone of
Shady's fiddle as he played to the crowd on the house-veranda.

Alec paused and drew a deep breath. "And you wanted to leave it!"

"I wonder at myself sometimes," she confessed. "But I'm not sorry.
Think how much richer I am this summer than last, with Grandmother and
all the girls,--not to mention present company!"

"Thank you!" Alec laughed and made his bow.

"You like it more because it is--different, than for any other reason.
I reckon you have to know other places before you can properly
appreciate your own," she went on thoughtfully.

"This doesn't seem to add to my appreciation of--Woodford," Alec
rejoined quickly.

"That's because you haven't been here long enough. After a few years
you'd begin to wonder how the elms look on Adams Avenue, and yearn for
a glimpse of the Boston Common--just as I used to long for a sight of
the prairie. But I'm glad you like it here--for it is a grand old
place!"

"I wish Grandfather would rejoice because I like it," he remarked
moodily. "He seems to be sorry that I didn't go abroad with Boyd. And
Boyd's letters to him--which he always forwards--are full of ravings
about automobiles and scenery and pictures. Pictures!" Alec pointed