"This is more fun than getting settled in the sleepers," declared Elsie Martin, as Genevieve began to fly about arranging her guests. The boys made quick work of bringing in the trunks and bags; and then for a brief half-hour there was quiet while eight pairs of hurried hands attempted to remove part of the dust of travel and to unearth fresh blouses and clean linen from long-packed trunks. It was a hungry, merry crowd, a little later, that trooped through the long covered way leading to the dining-room. "Now I know why this house has got so much room in it," declared Tilly. "We could have room in the East if we banished our dining-rooms and kitchens and pantries to the neighbors like this!" Genevieve did not answer. They had reached the long narrow room with the big table running lengthwise of it. Only one end of the table was set with places for eight. "Why, where are the boys?" questioned Genevieve. Mammy Lindy shook her head. "Dey ain't here, chil'e." "But, Mammy, you are mistaken. They are here. They came home with us." "Yas'm, dey done come home, sure 'nuf, but dey ain't eatin' now, honey." "Why not?" Again the old woman shook her head. She did not answer. She turned troubled eyes first on the two young Mexican maids by the doorway, then on Mr. Hartley. "Father, do you know what this means?" demanded Genevieve. "No, dearie, I must say I don't," frowned Mr. Hartley. "Then I shall find out," avowed the mistress of the Six Star Ranch. "Mammy Lindy, please seat my guests, and have the supper served right away. I'll find Mr. Tim." "But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy, gently, "wouldn't it be better if you ate your own supper first--with your guests?" Genevieve shook her head. Her face flushed painfully. "I know, Aunt Julia, of course, what you mean. You don't think it's civil in me to run off like this. But it's the boys--something is the matter. They always eat with us. Why, they may be thinking we don't _want_ them, Aunt Julia. Please, please excuse me, everybody," she entreated, as she ran from the room. Halfway to the bunk house Genevieve met the ranch foreman. "Why, Mr. Tim, supper is ready. Didn't you know?" she called, hurrying toward him. "Where are the boys?" An odd expression crossed the man's kindly, weather-beaten face. "Oh, they're 'round--in spots." "Why don't they come to supper?" Mr. Tim's eyebrows went up. "Well, as near as I can make out, that's part of the welcome they're giving you." "Welcome!--to stay away from supper!" Mr. Tim laughed.