Mrs. Clyde seemed satisfied. It would be easier to transplant Uncle Cliff sometime in the future, she thought, than to sacrifice Blue Bonnet to the Texas wilderness. The bond between herself and the child was riveting so close that the thought of a possible separation often appalled her. Yet she did not wish to be selfish; Blue Bonnet's allegiance was to her uncle--there could be no doubt of that. "By the way, Grandmother, did I tell you that the General has a new picture of Alec? It's just fine. I'll run over and get it." She was back in the shortest possible time, excited and breathless. "There he is," she said, thrusting the picture in her grandmother's hands. "Did you ever see anybody change so in your life? That shows what Texas air will do for people. Why, he's fat, positively fat, for him, isn't he?" "He certainly seems to have grown stouter," Mrs. Clyde admitted. "And those corduroys--don't they look good--and the sombrero?" Blue Bonnet's face glowed. "I don't think you like it," she said, after a moment, taking the picture in her own hands and regarding it jealously. "Why, yes, I do, dear. Only it seems a bit strange to see Alec in that garb. It is cowboy style, is it not?" "Yes, but it's cowboy dress, and cowboy life, and cowboy freedom that has given Alec health. He'd never have got it here in Woodford in a thousand years." "That is true, Blue Bonnet. You are right. What did the General think of the picture?" "He loves it! I reckon it looked better to him than a West Point uniform with nothing inside of it." Mrs. Clyde smiled. "I think the General got over that dream long ago, Blue Bonnet. He is perfectly delighted with Alec's recovery." Blue Bonnet put the picture on the mantel-shelf, and, folding her work neatly, went to the window and looked out. She stood a moment lost in thought. "I think I'll go for a gallop, Grandmother," she said, turning suddenly. "I've just time before dinner. I won't have many more chances." "The clouds look heavy, dear." "I know; that's why I want to go. I love the damp air in my face. It's so refreshing." But out among the hills where the clouds lay the thickest and the wind blew the sharpest, the world seemed a little dreary to Blue Bonnet. "You poor little things," she said to the sparrows hopping from fence to tree forlornly. "The prospect of a New England winter is not as alluring as it might be, is it? Why don't you try Texas? It's warm down there--and sunshiny--and-- "What's the matter with me?" she said, pulling herself up in the saddle. Then she laughed. "I know. I'm homesick because I'm going away, and it's perfectly ridiculous. Who ever heard of any one being homesick before they started? I sha'n't stand for it! "It's a good thing Aunt Lucinda didn't hear that, Chula. She'd be horrified. What I mean is, I sha'n't let it creep in. If I do it will make me miserable, and I can't afford to be miserable with Uncle Cliff coming."