“No, she decided not to, and went to Los Angeles this morning; but I’m bursting with watch-words that she left. All the way to your house I said them over, and I nearly ran Pedro into a prairie dog’s hole, I was thinking so hard. I. _It is very bad form to talk to strangers._ II. _Try to be as neat in appearance on the train as you are at home._ (Aunt Lou really means neater, Don.) III. _Don’t forget to tip the waiter after each meal in the dining-car._ IV. _Be polite to your traveling companions, but not familiar._ That’s all for the journey, but I’ve heaps more for Vermont and for school. Oh, why did you choose Colorado, Don?” “Oh, I don’t know, except that it’s nearer home, and since I’m going there to college in another year, I may as well get used to it. The East is all right, Virginia, but some way I like it out here better. I’m a rank cow-boy, I guess. That’s what they used to call me at school. Then, besides, the Colorado fellows ride a lot, and they don’t in the East—that is, so much, you know,” he added hastily, as he saw the dismay on her face. “Don’t ride, Don! Why, I can’t stand it not to ride! Don’t they have horses? Don’t they—know how to ride?” Her genuine distress disturbed him, and he hastened to reassure her as best he could. “You’ll find something to ride, I’m sure,” he said. “Don’t worry. Maybe the horses won’t be like Pedro, but they’ll do. You see, your school’s in a larger town than mine. You’ll write me all about it, won’t you, Virginia?” “Of course, I will—every little thing. If the boys thought you were a cow-boy, the girls will probably think I’m very queer, too.” “Oh, no, they won’t! You’re—you’re different some way. And, anyway, they won’t be as nice as you,” he finished awkwardly. Virginia, full of questions, did not heed the honest compliment. “What are Eastern girls like, Don? Have you seen many? You see, I’ve never known one, except in books. Margaret Montfort certainly was different. Besides, you know what a time Peggy had when she went East to school, and she was only from Ohio.” Donald knew nothing of Margaret or Peggy, and felt incompetent to remark upon them; but he answered Virginia’s questions. “I used to see them last year at school,” he said, “at the dances and at Commencement. And in the Berkshires, I knew Jack’s sister, Mary. She’s great, Virginia. I hope there are some like her. She’s at some school, but I forget where. Oh, I guess they’re nice. You see, at parties, when they’re all dressed up, you can’t get real well-acquainted.”