“She is full of sunshine as a meadow lark, and as spontaneous as a mountain stream, as lively as a squirrel--” “And just as hard to catch,” inserted Mary. “Unless the right feller comes along,” said Sally; “then she’s tame enough.” “Not the true Western girl,” objected Mrs. Willis; “she won’t chase after any man. Her heart is hidden as deep as the mountain’s gold.” “Oh, you’d make her an angel with wings,” said Sally. “No, I wouldn’t, I’d just make her all she is--wholesome, natural, free--a wild rose that blooms among a tangle of thorns, scattering sweetness free and far, but stinging the hand that tries rudely to pluck it.” “Why, you’re a regular preacher,” said Sally. “You’re a poet!” said Alta. “No, I’m neither poet nor preacher, but if I were either I’d give you girls one lesson.” “And what’s that?” asked Alta. “Have all the rollicking fun you want, but make it pure, and remember, if you want any man always to love you, make him respect you first.” “That sounds just like Aunt Betty,” said Alta, snuggling closer to Mrs. Willis, who responded by smoothing back the silken hair and kissing the beautiful forehead. A tear stole down Alta’s cheek. “Let’s sing a hymn now and be dismissed,” said Sally. “This is getting too blamed serious. All together now!” She grabbed up the rolling pin and began to beat time, singing with solemnity in nasal tones: “Do what is right, let the consequence follow, Battle for freedom with spirit and might.” “Oh, give us something cheerful!” Mary broke in, “like ‘music in the air.’” “You don’t call this music, then?” said Sally, in mock injury. “Well, let’s try another: ‘Mary Lee, we’ll roll the dough, roll the dough, roll the dough,’” and suiting the action to the word, she began to make the old rolling pin chuckle on the table. “That’s a heap better,” said Aunt ‘Liza; “we’d better be gettin’ this work movin’ faster. That sun’s slidin’ to’rds night perty fast.” They all began briskly to do the various tasks Aunt ‘Liza had assigned them. “Who do you think’ll be here anyway?” asked Sally. “Jim for one,” said Alta. “And that one’s Sally,” added Mary. “Good for poor lonely me! Who else?” “The rest of the Bar B bunch, with Pat the cook.” “I wonder if Alta’s new beau will come?” said Mary. “Who, Dick? Yes, he’ll be here, don’t worry.” “But I meant that other one.” “Who, the cow-kid? That young fellow she danced with half a dozen times the last dance?” “Oh, what a fib!” said Alta. “Yes, that’s the one,” said Mary. “No, he won’t be here; he’s skipped.” “What do you mean?” asked Alta. “Well, Noisy says he’s been discharged and has quit the valley.” “Discharged? left the valley?” said Alta. “What for?” “For doing some crooked work with the cattle he was herding.” “It’s a cruel lie,” said Alta, trembling between anxiety and anger. All stared at the anxious, excited girl. “That boy is not capable of crooked work.” “How do you know it?” asked Sally. “Well, I know him, that’s all.”