happy one.

Your friend,
ELINORE RUPERT.

... An interesting day on this ranch is the day the cattle are named.
If Mr. Stewart had children he would as soon think of leaving them
unnamed as to let a "beastie" go without a name.

On the day they vaccinated he came into the kitchen and told me he
would need me to help him name the "critters." So he and I "assembled"
in a safe place and took turns naming the calves. As fast as a calf was
vaccinated it was run out of the chute and he or I called out a name
for it and it was booked that way.

The first two he named were the "Duke of Monmouth" and the "Duke of
Montrose." I called my first "Oliver Cromwell" and "John Fox." The poor
"mon" had to have revenge, so the next ugly, scrawny little beast he
called the "Poop of Roome." And it was a heifer calf, too.

This morning I had the startling news that the "Poop" had eaten too
much alfalfa and was all "swellit oop," and, moreover, he had "stealit
it." I don't know which is the more astonishing, that the Pope has
stolen alfalfa, or that he has eaten it.

We have a swell lot of names, but I am not sure I could tell you which
is "Bloody Mary," or which is "Elizabeth," or, indeed, which is which
of any of them.

E.R.

IX

A CONFESSION

_April 5, 1910._

DEAR MRS. CONEY,--

I find upon re-reading your letter that I did not answer it at all when
I wrote you. You must think me very indifferent, but I really don't
mean to be.

My house joins on to Mr. Stewart's house. It was built that way so that
I could "hold down" my land and job at the same time. I see the wisdom
of it now, though at first I did not want it that way. My boundary
lines run within two feet of Mr. Stewart's house, so it was quite easy
to build on.

I think the Pattersons' ranch is about twenty-five miles from us. I am
glad to tell you they are doing splendidly. Gale is just as thrifty as
she can be and Bobby is steady and making money fast. Their baby is
the dearest little thing. I have heard that Sedalia is to marry a
Mormon bishop, but I doubt it. She puts on very disgusting airs about
"our Bobby," and she patronizes Gale most shamefully; but Gale, bless
her unconscious heart, is so happy in her husband and son that she
doesn't know Sedalia is insulting.

My dear old grandmother whom I loved so much has gone home to God. I
used to write long letters to her. I should like a few addresses of old
persons who are lonely as she wa