“Worse than that,” groaned James G. “My sister's coming out to spend the summer--t'-morrow. And no cook but Patsy--and she can't eat in the mess house--and the house like a junk shop!” “It looks like you was up against it, all right,” grinned Shorty. Shorty was a sort of foreman, and was allowed much freedom of speech. “Somebody's got to meet her--you have Chip catch up the creams so he can go. And send some of the boys up here to help me hoe out a little. Dell ain't used to roughing it; she's just out of a medical school--got her diploma, she was telling me in the last letter before this. She'll be finding microbes by the million in this old shack. You tell Patsy I'll be late to supper--and tell him to brace up and cook something ladies like--cake and stuff. Patsy'll know. I'd give a dollar to get that little runt in the office--” But Shorty, having heard all that it was important to know, was clattering down the long slope again to the stable. It was supper time, and Shorty was hungry. Also, there was news to tell, and he was curious to see how the boys would take it. He was just turning loose the horse when supper was called. He hurried back up the hill to the mess house, performed hasty ablutions in the tin wash basin on the bench beside the door, scrubbed his face dry on the roller towel, and took his place at the long table within. “Any mail for me?” Jack Bates looked up from emptying the third spoon of sugar into his coffee. “Naw--she didn't write this time, Jack.” Shorty reached a long arm for the “Mulligan stew.” “How's the dance coming on?” asked Cal Emmett. “I guess it's a go, all right. They've got them coons engaged to play. The hotel's fixing for a big crowd, if the weather holds like this. Chip, Old Man wants you to catch up the creams, after supper; you've got to meet the train to-morrow.” “Which train?” demanded Chip, looking up. “Is old Dunk coming?” “The noon train. No, he didn't say nothing about Dunk. He wants a bunch of you fellows to go up and hoe out the White House and slick it up for comp'ny--got to be done t'-night. And Patsy, Old Man says for you t' git a move on and cook something fit to eat; something that ain't plum full uh microbes.” Shorty became suddenly engaged in cooling his coffee, enjoying the varied emotions depicted on the faces of the boys. “Who's coming?” “What's up?” Shorty took two leisurely gulps before he answered: “Old Man's sister's coming out to stay all summer--and then some, maybe. Be here to-morrow, he said.” “Gee whiz! Is she pretty?” This from Cal Emmett. “Hope she ain't over fifty.” This from Jack Bates. “Hope she ain't one of them four-eyed school-ma'ams,” added Happy Jack--so called to distinguish him from Jack Bates, and also because of his dolorous visage. “Why can't some one else haul her out?” began Chip. “Cal would like that job--and he's sure welcome to it.”