"I don't want you to do anything just because it's easier, Blue Bonnet," Uncle Cliff continued. "That wasn't your father's way." "Nor your way, Uncle Cliff." "I hope not, Blue Bonnet. That's why I'm going to stop arguing right here. It's my natural inclination to say 'stay with me, Honey, I need you.' But I know I don't,--I just want you. But what I want more is to have you do the thing that's best for Blue Bonnet Ashe,--the thing that will make you say in the end, 'I'm glad I did it!'" More moved than he cared to show, Clifford Ashe rose, and running down the veranda steps, strode off in the direction of the stable. "Oh, dear!" thought Blue Bonnet, gazing after him. "In the language of the cowboys,--it's certainly up to me!" When she went into her grandmother's room that night--the room that had been her mother's--Blue Bonnet found Benita acting as lady's maid, brushing Mrs. Clyde's long hair. The old nurse enjoyed nothing so much as waiting on the little Senora's mother,--unless it was babying the little Senora's daughter. As she stood in the doorway silently watching the two, the sight of the rippling gray locks, fast whitening into snow, did more to sway Blue Bonnet than all the other array of arguments. Uncle Cliff wanted her; it was Grandmother who really needed her. She tiptoed up back of Benita, but her grandmother had caught sight of her in the mirror and turned at her approach. Something in the expression of Blue Bonnet's eyes as she bent for the good-night kiss made Mrs. Clyde say hastily-- "What is it, dear?" And Blue Bonnet, her tone reflecting the happiness her words gave, replied: "It isn't _manana_ yet, but I can't wait to tell you--I'm going when you go, Grandmother." When they looked up, Benita stood with her apron thrown over her face. CHAPTER XXII HASTA LA VISTA THE We are Sevens were packing. An open trunk blocked each aisle between the six beds in the nursery; in Sarah's room two more were standing, half-filled, one reflecting the neatness and order of its owner, the other bearing silent witness to the fact that it belonged to Blue Bonnet Ashe. "What are you doing with that old stick, Blue Bonnet?" asked Sarah, as she carefully folded her riding-skirt and laid tissue paper between the folds. "Old stick, indeed! That's the alpenstock Knight cut for me and Sandy carved,--I've sawed off about six inches of it, though it broke my heart to do it. It's one of my dearest treasures and I'm going to take it to Woodford if I have to carry it all the way!" Blue Bonnet declared vigorously. "I don't see anything so wonderful about it," Sarah returned. "There are plenty of old sticks just like it to be had around Woodford." Blue Bonnet lifted indignant eyes. "As if any old Woodford stick could mean as much as this one. Why, this has the initials of every one in both camps carved on it, and every inch of it represents a good time. You've no sentiment, Sarah."