Part 11 (2/2)

It was when Rhoda told more about the ranch, however--of the bands of half-wild horses, the herds of shorthorns, the scenery all about her home, the acres upon acres of wild roses in the near-by canyons, the rugged gulches and patches of desert on which nothing but cacti grew, the high mesas that were Nature's garden-spots--that Nan Sherwood was stirred most deeply.

”I think it must be a most lovely place, that Rose Ranch!” she cried on one occasion.

”It is a lovely place; and I'd dearly love to have you see it, Nan Sherwood. You must go home with me when school is over. Oh, what a lark! That would be just scrumptious, as Bess says.”

”Oh, it is too long a journey. I never could go so far,” Nan said, wistfully it must be confessed.

But Rhoda nodded with confidence. ”Oh, yes, you could,” she declared. ”You spent your Christmas holidays in Chicago with Grace.

And before that, you say, you went up to a lumber camp in Michigan.

One journey is no worse than another--only that to Rose Ranch is a little longer.”

”A _little_ longer!”

”Well, comparatively. To going to China, for instance,” laughed Rhoda. ”Of course you can go home with me.”

But Nan laughed at that cool statement. She was quite sure Momsey and Papa Sherwood would veto any such wild plan. And she had been away so much from them during the past year. But she received fine reports regarding her mother's health and Papa Sherwood's new automobile business; and little Inez, under Momsey's tuition, was beginning to write brief, scrawly notes to Nan to tell her how happy she was in the little dwelling in amity.

Winter could not linger in the lap of spring for ever. The snow under the hedges disappeared almost over night. The mud of the highways dried up.

The sparkling surface of the lake was ruffled temptingly by the light breezes and drew the girls of Lakeview Hall boatward. The outdoor tennis courts, the croquet grounds, the basketball enclosure, and the cinder track were put into shape for the season.

The girls buzzed outside the Hall like bees about a hive at swarming time.

Grace Mason took up horseback riding again. Her father and mother were still at their town house, but her brother Walter and his tutor were at the summer home a short distance from Lakeview Hall, where he was ”plugging,” as he called it, for the entrance examinations of a college preparatory school in the fall.

Walter had been unable to be much with his sister since the holidays; but now he came for Grace three times a week to accompany her on her rides.

He bestrode his own big black horse, Prince, leading the speckled pony Grace was to ride. The pony was a nervous, excitable creature.

Rhoda, seeing it for the first time, asked Nan:

”Is Grace Mason used to that creature?”

”I don't know. I never saw it before. But the pony can't be any worse than the big black horse that Walter rides.”

”Why, what is the matter with him?” asked the Western girl.

”Prince is so high-spirited. You never know what he is going to do.”

”I guess the black horse is spirited; but that is not a fault,”

Rhoda said. ”He looks all right to me. But that little flea-bitten grey is a tricky one. You can tell that. See how her eyes roll.”

”Do you think the pony will bite?” asked Lillie Nevins, Grace's chum, who overheard the girl from Rose Ranch.

”Goodness! I should hope so. She's got teeth,” laughed Rhoda. ”But I mean that probably she is skittish--will shy at the least little thing. And perhaps she will run away if she gets the chance.”

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