onds, for she was shining all over. Her hair
was high up and it had a little band on it, and a little pile of it
stuck up behind on her head. Her neck was cut low, like they wore 'em at
the hotel where we lived once, and her dress didn't have no sleeves in
it. She had rings on her fingers, though not no bells on her toes--only
little blue slippers; and her socks was pale blue, like we could see
when she come down the stairs.

I don't expect there was any handsomer woman in the world than she was
then--they don't make 'em any handsomer. We stood looking at her, us two
cowmen, both in clothes that was always getting mussed up, and with
tobacco in the pockets. We couldn't say a word. We got scared of her, I
said; you would, often, when you looked at Bonnie Bell, she was so
pretty. Yet she didn't know she had such looks.

"Daughter," says Old Man Wright, and he went up to her slow, like he was
afraid of her, "you're very beautiful tonight," says he. "What makes you
pale? You're a mighty fine girl. Dast you kiss your old pa before he
goes in and gets into togs fit to eat with you?"

She looks at me and then at him, and she knows I haven't said nothing
about that talk with the hired man. She was pale and didn't smile. She
went up to her pa like she was tired--she didn't have much color that
night in her face--and she just puts up her arms around her pa's neck
and laid her head down on his shoulder, and didn't say a word. She
didn't cry; she just let her head lay there.

I seen his arm go around on her bare shoulders easylike--he didn't
hardly touch her for fear she'd break; and he didn't say a word. He was
that sort of man that almost any sort of woman would like to put her
arms around his neck and lay her head on him if she was in trouble.

"What is it, Honey?" says he at last.

"Why, nothing, dad," says she. "I love you--that's all. You believe it,
don't you?"

"Will you always, sis?" says he, sort of funny.

"Always," says she, quiet. "Now," says she, "run off and get dressed up.
Have you forgotten that the Kimberlys are coming for dinner tonight with
us? Curly, you must go get on some dark clothes, you know."

You see, I was one of the family. I maybe gave them plenty of trouble,
but they never'd let me eat anywheres but with them all the time. By
this time I'd learned quite a few things from Bonnie Bell--about how not
to put a napkin up too high, or to break my bread up into little pieces
and pile them up, or t