e full of the moving
shadows of soft-stepping Mexican servants and cowboys. And everywhere
there was the hush of perfect content while from the living room there
floated out the clear, sweet tones, the weird, dreamy melodies, and the
tinkle of the tambourines.

One by one, an hour later, the lighted windows in the long, low ranch
house became dark. The last to change was the one behind which sat
Cordelia Wilson in the room she shared with Tilly.

"Cordelia, why don't you put out that light and go to bed?" demanded
Tilly at last, drowsily. "Morning will never come at this rate!"

"Yes, Tilly, I'm going to bed in just a minute," promised Cordelia, as
carefully she wrote in the space opposite Mrs. Miller's name on her list
of "things to do":

"Cowboys are good, kind gentlemen; but they are noisy, and some
rough-looking."

Five minutes later, Cordelia, from her little bed on one side of the
room called a soft "good night" across to Tilly. But Tilly was already
asleep.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MISTRESS OF THE SIX STAR RANCH

Breakfast was an early matter at the Six Star Ranch. It came almost with
the sunrise, in fact. Genevieve had assured her guests, on the night of
their arrival, however, that their breakfast might be hours later--that
it might, indeed, be at any hour they pleased. But on this first morning
at the ranch, there was not one guest that did not promptly respond to
the breakfast-bell except Mrs. Kennedy. The stir of life out of doors
had proved an effectual rising-bell for all; and it was anything but a
sleepy-looking crowd of young people that tripped into the dining-room
to find the boys already waiting for them--a little quiet and shy, to be
sure, but very red and shiny-looking as to face and hands, speaking
loudly of a vigorous use of soap and water.

Before the meal was half over, Mrs. Kennedy came in, only to meet a
chorus of remonstrances that she should have disturbed herself so early.

Genevieve, however, assumed a look of mock severity.

"Aunt Julia," she began reprovingly in so perfect an imitation of Miss
Jane Chick's severest manner that Mrs. Kennedy's lips twitched; "didn't
you hear the rising-bell, my dear? How often must I ask you not to be
late to your meals?"

For one brief moment there was a dazed hush about the table; then, at
sight of Cordelia's horrified face, Genevieve lost her self-control and
giggled.

"Oh, but that was such a good chance," she chuckled. "Please, Aunt