for a person you loved and you would never turn
back from what you thought to be right. You'd face danger, like--well,
like we ought all to face it," she ended seriously.

Olive kissed her hand to Jack. "She has done _all that_ for me," she
murmured, but Jack shook her head, not wishing the Harmons to know
anything of Olive's past, and no questions were asked.

"Oh, no, I haven't forgotten Jack. I have purposely saved the columbine
for her," Ruth replied. "I must agree with Mrs. Harmon, for it is an
aspiring flower and grows taller than any of the other wild flowers. And
I am sure it has deep, ardent impulses; for see all its beautiful colors
from pure white to rich purple!"

Jack blushed uncomfortably. "Hear, hear!" Jean exclaimed half in fun and
half in earnest. "For goodness' sake, don't shower any more compliments
on Jacqueline Ralston or we won't be able to live with her. I don't see
why you find so many marvelous virtues in her. Consider what an angel I
am, and yet nobody is devoting her time to mentioning my noble
qualities."

Jack extracted a sofa cushion from Elizabeth's pile, flinging it with
accurate aim straight at her cousin's head. Jean returned it with
interest and then the girls chased one another around the trees until
they were out of breath.

A little later Mr. Drummond and Jim Colter were seen walking toward
them, summoning them to the hotel. The entire company gathered up their
belongings, and Donald carried his sister to a rolling chair which they
had brought along in the stage.

Jean lingered a little in the background, putting her arm about Ruth's
waist to draw her away from the others.

"Ruth, dear," she said, with a far-away expression in her eyes, "you've
a tiny flower in your buttonhole which has been there all day. I wonder
if Jim gave it to you?"

Ruth nodded. "Why do you ask?" she inquired.

"Oh, for no particular reason," Jean answered, "only I happen to know
that Jim got up soon after daylight this morning, and climbed for miles
and miles up a steep hill. Why don't you choose that flower, Ruth, as
appropriate to your character?" Jean proposed, and her expression was so
innocent that Ruth began to guess at her meaning.

"The flower is called Indian Paint Brush," Jean continued; "but the name
has nothing to do with you. It is only that it grows on the peaks of
high, cold mountains and one has to climb and climb and struggle and
struggle to reach it. Poor old Jim!"

Ruth made