For, looking into the future, she saw a long vista of range work and quiet living, with merely the minor incidents of ranch life to break the monotony. This "dip" into society would not even leave a pleasant remembrance, she was afraid. And it might be years before she would be called upon to play hostess in such a way as this again. She sighed and unbraided her hair. At that moment there sounded a knock upon her door. She ran to open it to her father. "Here you are, Frances," said the old ranchman, jovially. "Never mind if Lon hasn't got here yet; I've gone deeper into the treasure chest. I want you to be all dolled up to-night." His hands were fairly ablaze--or looked to be. He had his great palms cupped, and that cup was full of gems in all sorts of ancient settings--shooting sparks of all colors in the dimly lighted room. "There's a handful of stuff to make you pretty," he said, proudly. The ancient belt dangled over his arm. He placed all the things on her dressing-table, and stood off to admire their brilliancy. Frances swallowed a lump in her throat. How could she disappoint him! How could she try to tell him how unsuitable these gems were for a young girl in her teens! He would be heart-broken if she did not wear them. "You are a dear, Daddy!" she murmured, and kissed him. "Now run away and let me dress." He tiptoed out, all a-smile. His wife's dressing-room had been a "holy of holies" to this simple-minded old man, and Frances reminded him every day, more and more strongly, of the woman whom he had worshiped for a few happy years. Frances did not hasten with her preparations, however. She sat down and spread the gewgaws out before her on the dresser. The belt, Spanish earrings of fabulous value and length, rings that almost blinded her when she held the stones in the sunlight, a great oval brooch, bracelets, and a necklace of matched stones that made her heart beat almost to suffocation when she tried it on her brown throat. She had it in her power to "knock their eyes out," as daddy (and Tom Gallup) had expressed it. She could bedeck herself like a queen. She knew that Sue Latrop worshiped the tangible signs of wealth, as she understood them. Cattle, and range lands, and horses, and a great, rambling house like this at the Bar-T, impressed the girl from Boston very little. But jewels would appeal to her empty head as nothing else could. Frances knew this very well. She knew that she could overawe the Boston girl with a display of these gems. And she would please her father, too, in loading her fingers and ears and neck and arms with the brilliants. And then, before she got any farther in her dressing, or had decided in her troubled mind what really to do, there came another, and lighter, tapping on her door. "Who's there?" asked Frances. "It's only me, Frances," said Pratt. "What do you want?" she asked, calmly, rising and approaching the door.