it none, because
they was full of it already; but women can hold plenty of tea. When they
was drinking that and, like enough, all three of them talking at once,
Katherine tells her ma all about how she got threw from her horse, and
how Bonnie Bell saved her life and carried her home and took care of
her, and now brought her back.

"Mommah, their place is lovely," says she. "They've all sorts of nice
things and we're going to call as soon as Bonnie Bell will let us."

"Yes, indeed," says her ma, who was going to back any play her girl
made.

"Bonnie Bell," says she--"that is a odd name and a very pretty one."

Bonnie Bell laughed at that.

"It's one my dad gave me," says she. "My real name is Mary Isabel. My
dad always called me Bonnie Bell; and so did Curly."

"Curly?" says the old lady, not knowing who that was--me.

"Oh, Curly's a dear," says Katherine then. "He's a cowboy, or was when
he was younger; but he isn't young now. And he can ride any sort of
horse living, and rope things--I think he must be the stableman."

"Indeed he isn't," says Bonnie Bell. "He's our foreman."

They didn't know what that was, being city people; so she told them.
Them Kimberlys couldn't see why they took me to the city when they
didn't have no cows. I reckon they must of talked of me and Old Man
Wright plenty--you see, Bonnie Bell told me of it like it happened. She
told me what Katherine's ma wore and what their William looked like, and
what sort of pictures was on the walls. Womanfolks can see more than a
man and remember it better.

Well, sir, it wasn't any more than a week before Old Lady Kimberly drove
up to our house in her car; and she come right up the walk herself and
didn't send in any of them little cards that says: "Tag; you're It."

She come into our parlor, and our William went out and got Bonnie Bell
for her, and them two must of had a regular visit, because Katherine's
ma insisted on seeing our ranch room, which pleased her mighty much.
She said she certainly was going to bring her husband over, because he
would be crazy over it.

"Tell me," says she--"when can we come?"

"Why," says Bonnie Bell, "in a real ranch there isn't a time of the day
or night when you can't come and be welcome. Everybody's welcome at a
ranch, you know."

Old Lady Kimberly, she seemed kind of thoughtful over that; but she
didn't say nothing about being slow starting. Says she:

"If you'd let us come we'd all be so glad to come and