"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" "Oh!" Barbara stretched her young arms for the sheer pleasure of doing so. "I had a heavenly rest!" "I'll get your breakfast." "I'll get it, Mother." Barbara washed, put two slices of bacon in a skillet and knelt before the fire place. She broke an egg over the sputtering bacon, brought it to the table and buttered herself a piece of bread. Emma smiled at her daughter. "Have you reflected upon your ardent suitors' fist-fight of last night?" Barbara said scornfully, "Yes, and it was so silly! I couldn't stop them, and I was just mortified when they insisted on fighting that way!" Her face clouded. "Do you think they'll keep them in the guardhouse very long, Mother?" "I suppose they'll be out before they're both old men." Barbara grinned, and said happily, "It's been such fun!" "It would be," Emma admitted dryly, "with fifty or more unattached young men ready to grovel at your feet every time you make calf's eyes at them." She laughed, "Oh Mother, none of them are serious--it's really all fun!" "I don't know about that. How many proposals have you had?" "Only seven so far. Johnny Parr, Michael Dilling, and Pete Robbins want to come to Oregon just as soon as their enlistments are up. Albert Johnson asked me to go to Baltimore with him, after we're married of course! His father has a store there, and I can be a clerk in it. Rodney Burr, he's from Maine and he talks so strangely, has wonderful plans for starting a shipyard in San Francisco. Robert Smith and Dan Jankoski want to get married right here." "What did you tell them?" "Mother, what _would_ I tell them? I don't want to marry any of them." "I hope you didn't hurt their feelings." "I refused as nicely as I could." Emma looked down at the table, gratified. Barbara was no longer the half-child half-woman who had left Missouri. The Oregon Trail had given her a new maturity and poise. Barbara finished her meal and folded her hands thoughtfully under her chin. She stared across the table and for a moment she did not speak. Then, "Mother, there's a dance tonight in the mess hall. May I go?" "Do you mean you can single out just one escort?" "Hugo asked me," she said dreamily. "He--he's so different. I--I just can't explain it. He simply makes the others seem like children. His home is in New York City, and it will take me at least a year to tell you all the things he's told me about it." Emma murmured, "Hugo must talk fast." "He does, Mother!" she said eagerly, missing entirely the double meaning in Emma's remark. "He's the most interesting young man I've ever met!" Because she knew she dared say nothing else, Emma said, "Yes, dear, you may go." "Thank you, Mother."