“Watah is a real farmerette,” agreed Jane, coming to a standstill against the oaken post. “I would recommend her for a position in the Department of Agriculture. Ta, ta, Auntie, I’m off to get dad. I think he will be over the Copper Turn Hill about now, and I’ll ride Firefly to be back with him. I am just dying to tell him the news.” “Janie, do be careful going down that steep hill. The boys who came collecting tin cans the other day told me the rocks fall in a torrent there now.” “Oh, I know. I’ll be ‘keer-ful.’” The voice came from the second stair landing. Jane Allen was on her way. She reached her own horse and it took but a few gallops to bring her up to Mr. Allen. “Do you suppose she will have light wavy hair, and very big blue eyes, Daddy? The aristocratic Poles are always light,” was among the first questions. “But I wouldn’t classify them by eyes and hair exactly,” replied the man on Victor, the big gray horse. “I’ve known a really fine Pole who was quite red headed.” “Now Daddy, don’t tease. You know a girl must be—well, a little bit pretty at least, to be popular, and I am bound to have my artist wonderfully popular—after we win the battle, of course.” “I can well imagine the battle,” and Henry Allen laughed so heartily Victor darted forward with a prance. “If your erstwhile friends, who made up the opposition last year, line up against your protege as vigorously as they attacked your other little friend, I am afraid you will take more time to train your guns on endurance, than on your favorite basketball, daughter.” “Indeed, Judy Stearns and I, and maybe Dorothy Martin, are very well able to hold our own against the Marian Seaton crowd,” answered Jane, bringing Firefly’s head up higher in punctuation. “I rather think they will not be quite so vigorous with their campaign of hate this year. I should think even envious girls would learn their lesson some time.” “I have often thought the same of the boys I have to deal with out here, but it is curious how envy sticks.” Pencils of sunset were now etching their path through the trees, and the well tramped road bore slight evidence of the afternoon’s shower. “Daughter, I hate to have you go,” continued Mr. Allen, “but your spirit makes me proud. Uncle Todd was telling the men out Lincoln way the other day, that Henry Allen’s girl was almost as good as a boy.” “Oh, he is a character!” Jane exclaimed. “I had him over during the shower, and he and Aunt Mary had a great time gossiping. Dad, may I go to New York a little early? That is, quite early,” she qualified cautiously. “Of course, daughter. But why the haste?” “Well, you see, about this new girl—she will have to be fitted out. Mrs. Weatherbee hinted she would get some friends interested in her who might help, but it seems to me I could make my allowance do for both of us.” “You just get what you want, little girl. Don’t worry about the bill. Old dad has still some credit, you know.”