A good many of their friends, of course--people like good Mrs. Peckham--would never realize the incongruity of a girl being bedecked like a barbarian princess. But Frances wondered what the girl from Boston would say to Pratt Sanderson about it, if she chanced to see Frances so adorned? She had an opportunity of seeing something more of the Boston girl shortly, for in a day or two Pratt Sanderson came over for the grey pony he had left at the Peckham ranch, and Frances had led back to the Bar-T for him. And with Pratt trailed along Mrs. Bill Edwards and the visitors whom Frances had met twice before. By this time Captain Dan Rugley was able to hobble out upon the veranda, and was sitting there in his old, straight-backed chair when the cavalcade rode up. He hailed Mrs. Edwards, and welcomed her and her young friends as heartily as it was his nature so to do. "Come in, all of you!" he shouted. "Ming will bring out a pitcher of something cool to drink in a minute; and San Soo can throw together a luncheon that'll keep you from starving to death before you get back to Bill's place." He would not listen to refusals. The Mexican boys took the ponies away and a round dozen of visitors settled themselves--like a covey of prairie chickens--about the huge porch. Frances welcomed everybody quietly, but with a smile. She instructed Ming to set tables in the inner court of the _hacienda_, as it would be both cool and shady there on this hot noontide. She noticed that Sue Latrop scarcely bowed to her, and immediately set about chattering to two or three of her companions. Frances did not mind for herself; but she saw that the girl from Boston seemed amused by Captain Rugley's talk, and was not well-bred enough to conceal her amusement. The old ranchman was not dull in any particular, however; before long he found an opportunity to say to his daughter: "Who's the girl in the fancy fixin's? That red coat's got style to it, I reckon?" "If you like the style," laughed Frances, smiling tenderly at him. "You don't? And I see she doesn't cotton much to you, Frances. What's the matter?" "She's Eastern," explained Frances, briefly. "I imagine she thinks I am crude." "'Crude'? What's 'crude'?" demanded Captain Dan Rugley. "That isn't anything very bad, is it, Frances?" and his eyes twinkled. "Can't be anything much worse, Daddy," she whispered, "if you are all 'fed up,' as the boys say, on 'culchaw'!" He chuckled at that, and began to eye Sue Latrop with more interest. When the shuffle-footed Ming called them to luncheon, he kept close to the girl from Boston, and sat with her and Mrs. Bill Edwards at one of the small tables. "I reckon you're not used to this sort of slapdash eating, Miss?" suggested Captain Rugley, with perfect gravity, as he saw Sue casting doubtful glances about the inner garden.