part of
arraying her in the gaudy jewels from the old chest was bound to make
her the laughing-stock of the people who were coming out from Amarillo
to see the Pageant of the Panhandle.

But what could she do about it? His wish was fathered by his love for
her. She must wear the gems to please him, for Frances would never do
anything to hurt his feelings, for the world.

A good many of their friends, of course--people like good Mrs.
Peckham--would never realize the incongruity of a girl being bedecked
like a barbarian princess. But Frances wondered what the girl from
Boston would say to Pratt Sanderson about it, if she chanced to see
Frances so adorned?

She had an opportunity of seeing something more of the Boston girl
shortly, for in a day or two Pratt Sanderson came over for the grey pony
he had left at the Peckham ranch, and Frances had led back to the Bar-T
for him.

And with Pratt trailed along Mrs. Bill Edwards and the visitors whom
Frances had met twice before.

By this time Captain Dan Rugley was able to hobble out upon the veranda,
and was sitting there in his old, straight-backed chair when the
cavalcade rode up. He hailed Mrs. Edwards, and welcomed her and her
young friends as heartily as it was his nature so to do.

"Come in, all of you!" he shouted. "Ming will bring out a pitcher of
something cool to drink in a minute; and San Soo can throw together a
luncheon that'll keep you from starving to death before you get back to
Bill's place."

He would not listen to refusals. The Mexican boys took the ponies away
and a round dozen of visitors settled themselves--like a covey of
prairie chickens--about the huge porch.

Frances welcomed everybody quietly, but with a smile. She instructed
Ming to set tables in the inner court of the _hacienda_, as it
would be both cool and shady there on this hot noontide.

She noticed that Sue Latrop scarcely bowed to her, and immediately set
about chattering to two or three of her companions. Frances did not mind
for herself; but she saw that the girl from Boston seemed amused by
Captain Rugley's talk, and was not well-bred enough to conceal her
amusement.

The old ranchman was not dull in any particular, however; before long he
found an opportunity to say to his daughter:

"Who's the girl in the fancy fixin's? That red coat's got style to it, I
reckon?"

"If you like the style," laughed Frances, smiling tenderly at him.

"You don't? And I see she doesn't cotton