"I'll manage all that," Belinda assured her soothingly. Miss Lucilla Ryder in a panic was a new experience. When the doctor came there were bright red spots on the Queer Little Thing's cheeks and she was babbling incoherently about prairie flowers and horses and Dick and Daddy. "Nerve strain, lack of nourishment, close confinement after an outdoor life," said the doctor gravely. "I'm afraid she's going to be pretty sick, but beef broth and this Daddy and a hope of homegoing will do more for her than medicine. Miss Ryder has made a mistake here, Miss Carewe." Meanwhile a telegram had gone to Daddy, and the messenger who delivered it heard a volume of picturesque comment that was startling even on a Texas ranch. "Am coming," ran the answering dispatch received by Miss Ryder that night; but it was not until morning that Bonita was able to understand the news. "He's scared, but I know he's glad," she said, and she swallowed without a murmur the broth against which even in her delirium she had fought. One evening, three days later, a hansom dashed up to the school and out jumped a tall, square-shouldered man in a wide-brimmed hat, and clothes that bore only a family resemblance to the clothing of New York millionaires, though they were good clothes in their own free-and-easy way. A loud, hearty voice inquiring for "My baby" made itself heard even in the sick-room, and a sudden light flashed into the little patient's eyes--a light that was an illumination and a revelation. "Daddy!" she said weakly; and the word was a heart-throb. Mr. Allen wasted no time in a polite interview with Miss Ryder. Hypnotised by his masterfulness, the servant led him directly up to the sick-room and opened the door. The man filled the room, a high breeze seemed to come with him, and vitality flowed from him in tangible waves. Belinda smiled, but there were tears in her eyes, for the big man's heart was in his face. "Baby!" "Daddy!" Belinda remembered an errand downstairs. When she returned the big Texan was sitting on the side of the bed with both the lean little hands in one of his big, brawny ones, while his other hand awkwardly smoothed the straight, black hair. "When will you take me home, Daddy?" said the child with the shining eyes. "As soon as you're strong enough, Honey. The boys wanted me to let them charge New York in a bunch and get you. It's been mighty lonesome on that ranch. I wish to Heaven I'd never been fool enough to let you come away." He turned to Belinda with a quizzical smile sitting oddly on his anxious face. "I reckon she might as well go, miss. I sent her to a finishing school, and, by thunder, she's just about finished." There was a certain hint of pride in his voice as he added reflectively: "I might have known if she said she'd have to come home she meant it. Harder to change her mind than to bust any bronco I ever tackled. Queer little thing, Baby is." CHAPTER IX