"Cordelia, why don't you put out that light and go to bed?" demanded Tilly at last, drowsily. "Morning will never come at this rate!" "Yes, Tilly, I'm going to bed in just a minute," promised Cordelia, as carefully she wrote in the space opposite Mrs. Miller's name on her list of "things to do": "Cowboys are good, kind gentlemen; but they are noisy, and some rough-looking." Five minutes later, Cordelia, from her little bed on one side of the room called a soft "good night" across to Tilly. But Tilly was already asleep. CHAPTER VIII THE MISTRESS OF THE SIX STAR RANCH Breakfast was an early matter at the Six Star Ranch. It came almost with the sunrise, in fact. Genevieve had assured her guests, on the night of their arrival, however, that their breakfast might be hours later--that it might, indeed, be at any hour they pleased. But on this first morning at the ranch, there was not one guest that did not promptly respond to the breakfast-bell except Mrs. Kennedy. The stir of life out of doors had proved an effectual rising-bell for all; and it was anything but a sleepy-looking crowd of young people that tripped into the dining-room to find the boys already waiting for them--a little quiet and shy, to be sure, but very red and shiny-looking as to face and hands, speaking loudly of a vigorous use of soap and water. Before the meal was half over, Mrs. Kennedy came in, only to meet a chorus of remonstrances that she should have disturbed herself so early. Genevieve, however, assumed a look of mock severity. "Aunt Julia," she began reprovingly in so perfect an imitation of Miss Jane Chick's severest manner that Mrs. Kennedy's lips twitched; "didn't you hear the rising-bell, my dear? How often must I ask you not to be late to your meals?" For one brief moment there was a dazed hush about the table; then, at sight of Cordelia's horrified face, Genevieve lost her self-control and giggled. "Oh, but that was such a good chance," she chuckled. "Please, Aunt Julia, I just couldn't help it. I had to!" "I don't doubt it," smiled back Mrs. Kennedy; and at the meaning emphasis in her voice there was a general laugh. "Well, what shall we do first?" demanded Tilly, when breakfast was over. Genevieve put her finger to her lips. "I wonder, now. Oh, I know! Let's go out and see if they've driven in the saddle band yet; then we'll watch the boys rope them and start to work." "What's a saddle band?--sounds like a girth," frowned Tilly. "Humph! I reckon it isn't one, all the same," laughed Genevieve. "It's the horses the boys ride. Each one has his own string, you know." "No, I don't know," retorted Tilly, aggrievedly. "And you needn't use all those funny words--'string' and 'saddle band' and 'rope them'--without explaining them, either, Genevieve Hartley. You've been talking like that ever since we came. Just as if we knew what all that meant!" Genevieve laughed again.