Skipping to the side of the elderly man, in a manner much too frivolous for the wearer of such sombre attire, the girl caught his hand as she exclaimed merrily: “Why Uncle Tex, I mean Mr. Davis, how stylish you do look! If you have observed yourself in the mirror, I ’spect you will want to dress up like this every day in the year.” The old man looked very miserable as he slowly shook his head. “No, ah won’t, Miss Virginia dearie,” he said. “Ah was jest thinkin’ as how ah’d rather rope the contrariest steer thar ever was than be play-actin’ this-a-way.” Then wheedlingly he added, “Don’t you spose as how you could get along jest as well without me? Couldn’t you be sayin’ as how her gardeen had gone away for a spell?” The old man’s pleading was interrupted by a merry honking from without and Virginia caught his work-hardened hand and led him out to the waiting car. The weather-bronzed features of Rusty Pete widened into a smile and he found it hard to keep his mirth within bounds. He wanted to shout. It was as good as a circus, he thought, to see Uncle Tex rigged up like a gentleman, but, when he saw how red and uncomfortable the old man looked, the kind hearted cow-boy refrained from uttering the bantering remark which the old overseer’s appearance had suggested. However, when he was alone on the front seat of the big touring car, his grin resembled that of the Cheshire cat, nor did it cease until the railway station was reached. Several ponies were tied to the hitching posts and a spirited young mustang belonging to Slick Cy, a cow-boy from the Slater Ranch, reared as the car came to a stop nearby. Uncle Tex and the supposed housekeeper alighted. Virginia, glancing at the poor old man, realized that he would probably be tongue-tied when the moment to speak arrived and so she said impulsively: “Uncle Tex, you needn’t say those lines of welcome that I taught you, if you’d rather not. I’ll play the part of a garrulous housekeeper and talk so much and so fast that you won’t have a chance to get a word in edgeways.” There was a deep sigh of relief from the old man who said gratefully: “Thanks, Miss Virginia dearie. I wan’t cut out for play-actin’, seems like.” “Here comes the train!” Rusty Pete sang out from the auto. Virginia and the old man turned toward the mountain tunnel through which appeared two great black engines puffing noisily. Then the long train slowly came into sight and to a standstill. Virginia’s heart was pounding like a trip hammer. She was wondering what their ward would look like, cross and homely and disagreeable, one might judge from her letters.