"Oh, I'm so glad," cried Genevieve, "but I wish we could see her, too. Only think, girls, of Quentina Jones being right here, only eighteen miles away!" "One would think eighteen miles were a mere step!" laughed Tilly. "They are--in Texas," retorted Genevieve. Then, to the minister she said: "Now tell us, please, Mr. Jones, what we can do. We want to see Quentina right away, quick. We can't wait! Can she come over? _Can't_ she? We'd love to have her!" The minister shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid not, Miss Genevieve--thank you just the same. I'd love to have her. It would do her such a world of good, poor little girl, to have one happy time with all you young people! But my wife has a lame foot just now, and Quentina simply cannot be spared. You know she has several brothers, so we have quite a family. But, I'll tell you what--you young ladies must all come to see us." "Oh, thank you! We'd love to--and we will, too." (Back in her ranch home, it was easy for Genevieve to slip into her old independent way of consulting no one's will but her own.) "When do you want us?" "But, my dear," interposed Mrs. Kennedy, hastily, "if Mrs. Jones is not well, surely we cannot ask her to take in six noisy girls as guests!" "Why, no--of course not," stammered Genevieve. The rest of the Happy Hexagons looked suddenly heartbroken. But the minister smiled reassuringly. "My wife isn't ill--only lame; and she loves young people. She'll be just as eager for you to come as Quentina will be--and Quentina just simply won't take 'no' for an answer, I'm sure. She talked for days of the Happy Hexagons, after your letter came. You must come, only--" he hesitated, "only I'm afraid you'll be a little cramped for room. A village parsonage isn't a ranch, you know. But, if you don't mind sort of--picnicking, and having to stand up in the corner to sleep--" he paused quizzically. "We adore standing up and sleeping in corners," declared Genevieve, promptly. "Then shall we call it Tuesday?" smiled Mr. Jones. "But how can they go?" questioned Mrs. Kennedy, in an anxious voice. "Why, they might ride it," began Mr. Hartley, slowly; "still, that would hardly do--even should the ponies come in time--such a long trip when they haven't ridden any here, yet. I'll tell you. We'll let Carlos drive them over in the carriage early Tuesday morning. I reckon the seven of them can stow themselves away, somehow--it holds six with room to spare on every seat. Then, Wednesday afternoon, he can drive them back. Meanwhile, he can stay himself in the town and get some supplies that I'm needing." "But seems to me that gives us a very short visit," demurred Mr. Jones, as he rose to take his leave. "Quite long enough--for the good wife," declared Mrs. Kennedy, decisively. And thus the matter was settled. CHAPTER XI QUENTINA Quite the most absorbing topic of conversation Monday was, of course, the coming visit to Quentina Jones.