CHAPTER XXXV—NEWS FROM SCHOOL.
Virginia settled comfortably on the warm sand still holding the letter from Tom while Margaret eagerly opened the plump epistle from her best friend in the far away East.
“I just love to get these chatty letters from Babs,” she prefaced and then read:
“Vine Haven Seminary,
“March 15, 1922.
“Dearest Cowgirls:
“Megsy, you remember how prim and proper Miss Pickle was when you were here at school and how ‘skeered’ of her we girls always were. Well, some mysterious power is surely working a transformation. I told you about the Surprise Valentine party she gave for us and how we entertained young Prof. Pixley and thirteen of the boys from the Drexel Military Academy. Well, ever since that night Miss Piqulin has been kindlier in her manner; she hasn’t done her hair up quite so tight and she even attempted a joke in algebra class. We girls hardly dared laugh, however, but yesterday something happened to convince us that Miss Piqulin can be called the sour Miss Pickle no longer.
“It was her birthday and it was also mine. It being Saturday Miss Piqulin decided to celebrate and she invited her algebra class to spend the day in the city with her. Weren’t we excited though? You know our club, ‘The Lucky Thirteen,’ (we asked Jennie Clark to join when you left school that we might keep the same number), are all in that class. We decked up in our very best and looked pretty nice, so we thought, when we gathered in the lower corridor to await the coming of the school bus. Betsy Closson was the last down and she seemed excited about something. ‘Girls,’ she said, ‘watch Miss Martin’s office door.
“‘A strange young lady just went in there and she had on the prettiest spring suit. It’s the very latest style. I wonder who—’ Betsy said no more for the office door was opening. The strange young lady appeared with her back toward us, but suddenly she turned, and if it wasn’t our very own Miss Pickle. She had on the prettiest grey suit and a grey tulle hat trimmed with crushed pink roses.
“I’m afraid we stared our astonishment, but luckily the bus arrived just then and so we went out and climbed in. Miss Piqulin was with Patrick on the front seat but she smiled at us over her shoulder. We sat there in two rows as solemn as though we were at a funeral.
“‘Girls,’ Miss Pickle said, ‘have a happy time; laugh and chatter all you want to.’
“Megsy, did you ever suppose the day would dawn when Miss Pickle would say that? Well, anyway, she did, so we started to sing a school song when suddenly Betsy Closson held up one hand and said, ‘Hark! Don’t you hear bugles?’
“‘Look! Look!’” Jenny Clark was pointing back at the bend in the road. ‘There comes a carryall and it’s filled with boys from the Drexel Military Academy. Don’t they look nice in their dress uniforms?’
“‘That jolly young Professor Pixley is with them,’ Flora Wells added. Miss Piqulin heard this and her cheeks became as pink as the roses on her hat. The mystery was solved. Miss Pickle is in love!
“Well, to make a long story short, the carryall dashed up and both vehicles stopped while greetings were exchanged. When Prof. Pixley heard that we were to spend the day in town, he asked us to join them at a theater party at two in the afternoon. Weren’t we girls excited and delighted, and what a fine time we did have! I sat next to such a nice boy and Virg, how pleased I was when he said that his home is in Arizona. His name is Benjamin Wilson. Have you ever heard of him?
“That was a whole lot of excitement for boarding school girls all in one day, wasn’t it Megsy? Nor was that all, for when I reached my room that night, I found a birthday box from China. In it was a pale blue silk kimono embroidered with pink cherry blossoms and slippers to match. It was from my dear brother Peyton. He has never missed giving me something on my birthday. Now that I know where he is, I am so happy and content.
“Farewell for now. Your BABS.”
“Then after all our Tom isn’t Peyton Wente,” Margaret said as they started walking toward the V. M. Ranch.
“I’m disappointed,” Megsy continued. “I did hope your outlaw would turn out to be—well—somebody just ever so nice and of course even if he did run away from a very stern father, Peyton Wente must be nice, else how could he be my adorable Barbara’s brother?”
“That argument can’t be disputed.” Virginia said, then leaping to her feet she added: “Let’s go home, dear, I’m hungry as a lean coyote! How I do hope that Uncle Tex will have a fine dinner waiting for us.”
Upon reaching the ranch house the girls went at once to their rooms to prepare for the midday meal, but when the Chinese gongs rang, they sallied forth arm in arm and were confronted by a young giant of a lad.
“Malcolm Davis, are you home at last?” Virginia fairly flew at her dearly loved brother, and was caught in his arms. Then turning, the smiling young man, held out his right hand to Margaret.
“I feel as though I ought to be introduced to my ward all over again,” he said with his pleasant smile. “I have been away at the mines for so long that I have hardly had time to become acquainted with her. Has she been a dutiful ward?”
Virginia smiled at her friend as she replied, “Oh, Malcolm, you can’t know what a comfort Margaret is to me. We two girls do have the nicest times together.”
Then, when they were seated about the table, Slim having been detained at the corral and Lucky still being out on the range, Malcolm remarked, “Slim tells me that Tom is not here now. Did you have cause to dismiss him from our service, sister?”
“No, indeed, Buddie,” was the earnest reply. “Tom proved to be as trustworthy as you believed that he would, but, for some reason, he seems to be a fugitive from justice as he told you. We advised him to go farther north, but he would not leave the V. M. until we girls were well protected. That very night Uncle Tex returned telling us that Mr. Wilson up Red Riverton way needed help on his sheep ranch and so we urged Tom to go. We have had two splendid letters from him. He seems to be enjoying his work up there and he likes the Wilson family just ever so much. Do you know them, Buddie?”
“Yes, indeed I do. I often stayed all night with the Wilsons when I was one of dad’s range riders, and when I had gone that far north in search of strayed cattle. Of course the cowmen and the sheep ranchers are supposed to be bitter enemies, but my theory is that there is room enough in our big state for all of us to live and let live. The Wilsons are the nicest kind of a family, Virg. Mrs. Wilson is a dear, mothering sort who reminds me of a hen with wide, warm wings that can always take one more chick in out of the cold. Dad thought very highly of Mr. Wilson, and then, there are two sons. One of them, Harry, is about my age and there is a younger chap. I think he is nearly sixteen. He was fonder of books than Hal and so they sent him East to school. I can’t recall his name.”
“Was it Benjamin?” Virginia asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Benjy, his mother called him. I haven’t ridden that far north for two years at least. However, I hope that I will get up that way some day. I like to keep in touch with such kindly neighbors.”
Malcolm then told the girls about the progress made at the mine.
“I am very much encouraged with the output,” he told Virginia, “but I am a rancher, not a miner, and so I asked Pat Mahoy to send for his former associates in Bisbee to assist him. I can trust Pat to look after our interests as he will his own. I will stay at home for a time and get acquainted with my ward and my sister.”
“Oh brother, I am so glad, and some day will you take us for a long, long ride? I am eager to have Margaret see more of our wonderful desert.”
“That’s a splendid suggestion,” Malcolm said with enthusiasm. “We might even ride as far north as the Wilson Ranch.”
Although Virginia’s reply expressed her pleasure, it did not reveal to her brother how very much she did hope that plan would soon be carried out.