"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what is the matter?"

"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "did you see it—did you see it? A terrible thing! A terrible thing!"

"But what?" asked the girl wonderingly, "what could have frightened you so, here?"

Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was quite incoherent in her explanation. Hope looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant problem which baffled her for the time. Louisa had entered the room and stood quietly to one side, looking in much surprise from one to the other. For a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's sobs ceased.

The German girl touched Hope gently upon the shoulder.

"I tink it vas King Solomon," she said.

"Why, that was just it," said Hope. "You must have seen King Solomon, Clarice. It was only King Solomon; don't be afraid. I thought we had the hole well plugged up, but he must have made another one."

"You forget," interrupted Louisa, laughing softly.

"Oh, that's so!" exclaimed Hope. "We took the soap out and used it this morning because we didn't have any other."

"And who's King Solomon, and what's that to do with soap?" demanded Clarice, raising herself upon her elbow to the edge of the bed with a faint show of interest.

"King Solomon," explained Hope soberly, "is a friend who comes to visit us occasionally, and generally packs off what happens to be in sight. We named him King Solomon—not because of his solemn demeanor, but for reason of his taking ways, and propensity toward feminine apparel."

"What are you talking about, Hope? I do believe this terrible place has gone to your head! What makes all the noise in that other room?"

Mrs. Van Rensselaer seemed extremely nervous.

"That's the men coming in to their supper," replied Hope. "I think you must have been nervous before you saw the rat. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came, Clarice!"

"And so that horrible thing I saw was a rat!"

"Yes, just a common everyday wood-rat, for obvious reasons sometimes called a pack-rat. But how did you happen to come up here, Clarice?"

"If I had known how far it was, and what a dreadful place I should find, I am afraid my great desire to see you couldn't have induced me to attempt it. How can you stay here? I wish you'd go home, Hope!"

"Is that what you came to tell me?" asked the girl quietly. "If so, you might just as well get on your horse and go back. I wrote you not to come. You might have taken my advice—it would have been a heap better. You're not cut out for this sort of place. I don't know what in the world I'm going to do with you to-night! I'll send you back to-morrow, that's one thing sure. One of us will have to sleep on the floor, or else we'll be obliged to sleep three in a bed."

"Oh, I'll make me a bed on the floor," offered Louisa quickly.

"You won't do anything of the kind—the idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, aghast. "Supposing that thing—that rat should come!"

"We'll put the soap back in the hole again," replied Hope. "And King Solomon will have to keep out. Before Louisa came I used to let him come in just for company's sake, but the poor fellow is a hopeless case. Clarice, I wish you hadn't come!"

"I wish so, too, if that will help you any," replied Mrs. Van Rensselaer, lifting her pretty face dejectedly from her hands and looking about the room in a woe-begone manner. "I'm awfully tired, Hope, and hungry, but I couldn't eat here if I starved to death! Is that room in there always so grimy and dirty? and what makes that terrible odor about the place?"

"I think you'd better go back to the ranch to-night," suggested Hope.

Clarice moaned in deep discouragement: "Oh, if you knew how tired I am! But I can't stand it here—I can't do it! Let me get out in the fresh air, away from the odor of those pigs and chickens and rats, and sit down on the side of a mountain—anywhere, so that I can breathe again!" After a moment's pause she suddenly exclaimed: "Hope, there's something biting me! What in the world is it? I tell you there's an insect on me!"

"Fleas," said Hope briefly. "The place is full of them. They don't bite me, and they don't bother Louisa much either. Poor Clarice, what trouble you have got yourself into! I can't send you back to-night, that's one sure thing, you're too tired." She pondered a moment, deeply perplexed, then all at once a solution came to her. Her eyes brightened and she laughed.

"I have it!" she cried. "I'll send one of the boys after Mr. Livingston's buggy and drive you over to Sydney's. They've got an extra tent and a stack of blankets. William will get you a fine supper, and you can be as snug as a bug in a rug."

"Hope, you're the dearest girl that ever lived!" cried Clarice. "I just dote on camping out in a nice clean tent!" But Hope had hurried away to find the twins before the sentence was finished. When she returned, a few minutes later, Clarice exclaimed:

"But you don't intend to send me over there alone, do you? You girls will go and stay with me? Come, you must! I'll not think of going alone. We'll have a regular camping-out party and I'll chaperon you."

"Old Father Jim and Sydney are chaperons enough," said the girl. "But we'll go along, since you happen to be our guest."

This decided upon, she made Mrs. Van Rensselaer lie down upon the bed, bathed her pretty, tired face with cool water, and commanded her to rest until the twins returned with the conveyance.

Louisa clapped her hands in joy at the happy prospect of camping in a tent. She declared in her pretty broken English that it had been her one great desire ever since she had been in the country. Then she became sober again. Had not her Fritz spent months at a time in one of those small, white-walled tents?

Hope viewed the project with complete indifference. It mattered little to her where she spent the night, so that she got her allotted hours of good, sound sleep. At first she was greatly perplexed as to how she was going to make Clarice comfortable, but now that the matter had adjusted itself so agreeably she became at once in the lightest of spirits, the effects of which were quickly felt by both Mrs. Van Rensselaer and little Louisa.

By the time the roll of wheels was heard, announcing the arrival of Edward Livingston's conveyance, Clarice was fairly rested, and in a much more amiable mood than previously.

"The only thing that's the matter with me now is that I'm hungry," she said.

"We'll soon fix that, too," replied Hope brightly. "The boys are back with Mr. Livingston's team and it won't take us long to drive over to camp. Get on your things, Clarice." She threw her own jacket over her arm and, picking up her hat, hurriedly left the room. "I'll be back in a moment for you," she said from the door. "Keep her company, Louisa, and don't let King Solomon in!"

At the entrance of the house she met the soft-voiced twin just coming in search of her.

"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he said disgustedly. "Thought it wasn't safe fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!"

She looked out and saw Livingston standing beside his team in the road. He was waiting for her. When she approached, his fine eyes brightened, but hers were gloomy—indifferent.

"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his hand to her. "You did not think I would miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I haven't pleased you, but this time I thought to please myself."

"I was in such a predicament," she cried, ignoring his hand, but forgetting her momentary displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, and no place to put her. Then I thought of Sydney's, and that new tent, so we're all going over there. I sent for your buggy, because Mrs. Van Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, is all tired out—but I didn't mean to put you to so much trouble."

"Is it a trouble to see you?" he asked. "If it is, I want a great deal of just that kind of trouble."

"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. "If you will drive her over there, Louisa and I can go horseback."

He assented in few words, happy to do her bidding.

She started toward the house, then turned back absent-mindedly, as though she had forgotten something that she was striving to recall. Finally she gave a little short laugh, and held out her hand. "You are very kind," she said, looking at him squarely.

He did not reply, but held the proffered hand, drinking in the language of her eyes. She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it from his warm clasp, then flashing him one of her brilliant smiles turned once more and went quickly back to the house.

"You will ride over with Mr. Livingston, Clarice," she announced. "He wouldn't trust the twins with his team."

"And who's Mr. Livingston, Hope," inquired Mrs. Van Rensselaer, adjusting her veil carefully before the small mirror. "I didn't suppose you had a Mr. anybody up here in this terrible country! Why the prefix?"

"He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling down her hat to hide the flush that crept into her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston."

"An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling on her gloves. "But what makes you Mister him, Hope? Livingston—wonder if he's any relation to Lord Livingston? Edward Livingston, did you say?"

"Oh, such a nice man!" exclaimed Louisa, clasping her hands in rapture. "He is my goot, kind friend."

"And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, at which remark Hope advised her to hurry up.

"But my dear, I am hurrying just as fast as I can," she exclaimed. "I assure you I am as anxious to get away from here as you are to have me. I don't see how you've ever stood it, Hope! The attraction must be very strong. Come, own up, is it this Mister Livingston? Why, I believe you are blushing. You're so black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a good name—Livingston. Come on; I'm ready to see this Mister Edward Livingston!"

The three passed out of the room and through the large living room beyond, on out of doors. The men had eaten their supper and gone out to the stables, where they congregated in numerous groups—quiet groups, that any other time would have seemed suspicious to Hope.

Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past the pigs and dogs without accident, but at the corner of the house she drew back, filled with surprise, and forgetful of all danger.

"Hope, I do believe that is Lord Livingston," she whispered. "I knew he was out in this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is he. His wife lives in New York now," she rattled on; "but I don't know her except by sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, but he belongs to one of the best families in England. Isn't it surprising to run across him like this? I'll go up to him and say—why, how do you do, Lord——"

"Come on," said Hope, interrupting and taking her by the arm. "Lord or no lord, you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry up!" Her face had gone from red to white. She took Clarice by the arm and led her up to the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Mr. Livingston," she said quickly, before that lady could speak, then turned abruptly about and went to the stable for the saddle-horses.

Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer into the buggy, while Louisa ran after Hope, quickly overtaking her.

"She says he hass a vife. I don't belief her!" she exclaimed indignantly, linking her arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her eider!"

"I must believe it, little Louisa, because it is true!" said Hope. "But if it were not true, if it were not true, I think I should be mad with happiness at this moment!"