"Now, girls, come and see the guest-room Polly prepared for us. You know she is going to study interior decorating when she grows up—aren't you, Polly?" said Anne, placing an arm protectingly about the girl's shoulders and moving towards the chamber.

Polly brightened up at once, for she remembered the sofa that Anne had praised as having made a fine bed, and then there were the gorgeous bronzed shades that darkened the windows!

Polly stood at the head of the sofa watching eagerly for the effect of the decorating on the city visitors. Barbara stared at first in utter unbelief that her room could be so barren of comfort, then she turned and frowned darkly as the truth impressed her.

"Why! There's nothing here—only an old bed, and a painted set of drawers such as our servants would fling out of the room!" Then she caught a twisted reflection of her face in the green mirror. It was too much!

She threw herself upon the sofa and laughed hysterically. Eleanor wondered at her sister's discordant mirth but when she looked in the direction Barbara's eyes were turned, she saw the cause.

"Verily, Anne, 'pride goeth before a fall'—Poor Bob!" said Eleanor, cynically.

Anne could not hide a smile at the words but tried to smooth matters out by going to the window and speaking of the view.

"I've had landscape enough for one day, Anne, and could recover somewhat, if I had an opportunity, without having a family party about," retorted Barbara, meaningly.

Instantly, Mrs. Brewster turned and beckoned Polly to follow her from the room. The moment the door closed upon the hostess and her daughter, Barbara anticipated her friend's reproach.

"Anne, where were your brains when you recommended this awful place to father?"

"I had nothing to do with recommending it, Bob. Your father already knew of it and merely asked me to write Polly—my little pupil of a few years ago."

"But why didn't you tell me what to expect?" demanded the angry girl.

"Simply because I was asked not to mention any particulars that might prejudice you; and besides, you never asked me anything!" retorted Anne, feeling impatient with Barbara.

"What's more, Bob, I can't see any justice in making the poor Brewsters suffer for what your own father did! But I'm glad he sent us here—it is great!" declared Eleanor.

"Naturally, you find your level in a common country home and family!" said Barbara in an unpleasant voice.

"Words never killed any one, Bob, so keep it up if it makes you feel better. I'm used to your complaints," laughed Eleanor.

"And allow me to add, Bob, that the Brewsters are not common farmers. Mrs. Brewster had a better education and has more sense than any woman—other than my mother—that I know; and Mr. Brewster is a fine man respected by every one that knows him. Even the government admires his intelligence and worth, and employs him in cases where they need expert agricultural advice and reports!" Anne spoke with frankness and warmth.

"The government employs all sorts of men in its need, but that doesn't say the man is a gentleman, nor does it make his wife a lady. Our mother is a lady and goes in the very best society in Chicago!" said Barbara.

"Society does not make the lady, but the lady makes society. Mrs. Brewster could form the most exclusive set in Chicago if she cared for that sort of thing!" came from Anne, curtly.

"But it would take money, my dear—a farmer couldn't afford an exclusive set!" jeered Barbara.

"If that is the case, the Brewsters could ride on Chicago society's very crest! But they never brag about their money!" laughed Anne, sarcastically.

Barbara's breath was suddenly taken away by this news but she recovered enough to say maliciously: "Oh, I see! That is why you take such a deep interest in John!"

"Barbara Maynard! you—you—if you dare say another word like that to Anne, I'll—I'll just pull your hair, so there!" cried Eleanor, running to Anne and throwing her arms around her neck.

Barbara felt ashamed of her words but she was too proud to confess it. So she tried to excuse herself by saying: "Of course, one can't be expected to fall right in with folks one never heard of before. Anne and you fancy a rural existence, so you naturally defend everything that goes with it. But I shall return home to-morrow on the very first train!"

"There is only one out a day, and you'll have to ask a favor of the farmer before you can get to Oak Creek station!" added Anne, with a bit of triumph in her tone.

Having relieved her heart of some of its bitterness, Anne felt sorry for Barbara, so she endeavored to change the current of their thoughts. She went to the window to raise the shade as far as it would go, and was struck with the wonderful sunset sky.

"Oh, girls! Come here and look at that glory!"

Eleanor rushed over, followed by Barbara who never wanted to miss anything good. All irritation was forgotten and healed as they stood gazing raptly at the beautiful view. The cliffs looked as if volcanic fires were again burning within their hearts, and the mist from the valley crept up to form an illusion of smoke rising from the sharply outlined peaks. A purple haze enveloped the mountains and the dusky-red streaks in the sky perfected the appearance of a vast eternal fire consuming the earth.

The sight had a salutary effect on the girls, and when they turned from the window, it was with the old friendship restored. But Barbara was of a complaining nature and must have something to find fault with. This time it found innocent objects to bear the grumbling.

"Where are we expected to sleep? Both in the same bed?"

"Of course! Isn't it big enough? Why, I never saw such a wide bed; it's large enough to hold a dozen of us," said Eleanor.

"Where is your room, Anne?" Barbara asked, ignoring her sister's remark.

"I sleep here on the sofa," admitted Anne, fearing another scene.

"Sofa—impossible!" exclaimed Barbara.

"It is a bed-lounge, you know. It opens into the nicest bed!" explained Anne, taking hold of the loop that was partly hidden in the deep crease formed by the meeting of the seat and back.

"Watch me! I give a hard tug and presto! the upper half of the seat swings open and turns over like this. There we have a wide bed with ready-made mattress and all that goes to form a comfortable resting place."

Anne demonstrated her words and the city girls saw a low bed opened before their wondering eyes. The pillows and bedding were neatly folded and kept in a long shallow drawer under the sofa.

"How awful—to sleep on that!" cried Barbara. "It looks like great fun!
May I sleep here, Anne?" said Eleanor.

"Indeed you shall not! You will sleep with me!" snapped Barbara. Then turning to Anne again, she added: "Where are the wardrobes?"

"Those curtains hide the shelves we will use. You will find nails driven into the board against the wall."

"What! hang our expensive clothes on these common nails!—With only a calico drapery to protect them!" gasped Barbara.

"Leave your expensive clothes in the trunks, then. I am," laughed
Eleanor.

"Nolla, I will need all of this one for myself; Anne and you will have to share the other one between you," remarked Barbara.

"I thought you were leaving on the early train to-morrow?" teased
Eleanor, quickly.

To avoid another quarrel, Anne hastily said: "Oh, I forgot about the trunks. What shall I tell Mr. Brewster?"

"Tell him anything you like about Nolla's, but leave mine where the man can pick them up readily, to-morrow, when I leave," returned Barbara, in a nonchalant manner.

"How about the price of the ticket to Chicago? You know we haven't more than a dollar between us?" suggested Eleanor, dryly.

Barbara had evidently forgotten the fact, but she was equal to the emergency. "I'll telegraph to the bank, the first thing in the morning, and have them wire me the money."

During this animated argument in the guest-chamber, a family gathering formed on the porch of the house.

"Mary, what shall we do with those seven huge trunks?" asked Mr.
Brewster, quizzically watching Polly.

"Seven! Why, Paw!" exclaimed Polly, instantly picturing the wonderful things those trunks held. Creations such as she had pored over in the "Farm Journal Fashion Notes."

"I don't know, Sam, unless we leave them in the wagon until the girls decide what they wish done with them?" replied Mrs. Brewster.

Sary overheard the conversation and now ran out to see whether there really could be seven trunks!

"Laws me! Ah never see'd sech quare-shaped trunks—all bulgy at one side, and all them brass locks!"

"They are wardrobe trunks, Sary," remarked Mrs. Brewster.

Sary deigned no reply to the information but vented a bit of her ire against the new-comers by shrugging her great shoulders and saying: "Ef Ah w'ar you-all, Miss Brewster, Ah'd shore pitch them trunks clar over th' line inta Wyomin' state whar th' Injuns kin scramble fer th' fancy duds!"

"Oh, Sary, I smell the cherry-dumplings scorching!" cried Mrs.
Brewster, suddenly, knowing the quickest way to rid herself of Sary.

Anne Stewart now came out and saw the group looking at the wagon. "The girls won't bother to unpack to-night, Mr. Brewster, so we may as well leave the trunks in the wagon and take them to the barn."

Jeb was sent to the barn with the wagon and contents, and Mr. Brewster retired to the lean-to back of the kitchen where he washed his face and hands in a tin basin. He had dried his hair and face, when Sary called to her mistress that the meal was ready.

Polly and her mother added the last touches to the table, when Mr.
Brewster came to the door saying: "Well, Ah'm ready, Maw!"

"Run and call the girls, Polly; I think Anne went to tell them about the trunks," said Mrs. Brewster.

Unwillingly, Polly obeyed and rapped on the door. "Supper's waiting."

While Polly was absent on her errand, Jeb came into the kitchen, took a home-spun towel from its peg on the back of the door, and his hair-brush from a small cabinet in the corner. With these toilet articles he went out again to the lean-to where the crude oak bench held the basin and soap. The pump was nearby, and Jeb filled the basin quickly and proceeded to immerse his whole head. Unfortunately, at the moment the city maidens reached the kitchen door leading from the living-room, Jeb was guggling loudly. Then he stood up and snorted as he shook his mane free from the streaming water.

Eleanor turned toward Anne with a smile of amusement on her face, but
Barbara expressed her disgust with an emphatic "Ugh!"

Polly saw and heard, but failed to understand, as she had been gradually accustomed to Jeb and his uncouth ways. But Mrs. Brewster comprehended the shock it must have been to the city girls and tried to cover the unfortunate incident.

"Anne, will you seat your friends at that side of the table? Polly and I will sit on this side. Mr. Brewster always sits at the head, you know, and I leave the other end for Sary as it is nearest the stove where she can reach it without walking so far."

Jeb came in and immediately pulled out a chair and sat down in his accustomed place, regardless of the standing ladies. Barbara looked on in amazement but said nothing. She was past words!

As they all sat down, Eleanor happened to catch her sister's eye and expression, and turned suddenly to Anne. Anne, too, had seen the horror on Barbara's face as Jeb reached over the table for a spoon Sary had forgotten to place beside his plate.

Eleanor raised the napkin to hide her laughing face, but Mr. Brewster construed the act to be one of reverence, and he approved of such tendencies in the young. Consequently, he hastened to say grace. Barbara sat stiff-necked throughout the lengthy prayer because she felt so rebellious at everything and with everything, that she wouldn't pay heed to the usual courtesy at prayer-time.

The moment Mr. Brewster said "Amen," Sary carried the large soup-pot from the stove and was about to ladle the soup into the bowls when Barbara said icily: "None for me, thank you!"

Jeb was tying his napkin about his neck, but at such a surprising refusal he gaped at the stranger. However, the fact that his own soup-plate was now placed before him ended the speechless shock.

He began eating at once, and the three boarders watched him scoop up the liquid as if his life depended upon finishing the work. The amount of noise he made while accomplishing the feat was a revelation to the Maynard girls and mortifying to Mrs. Brewster.

Sary concluded her serving and sat down to enjoy her own meal. She used the blade of her knife as a shovel and the fork-prongs as a pick. When she was not spearing or loading food upon either, she was using the silver as an eloquent means of expressing her conversation—which was voluble.

The moment supper ended, Mr. Brewster remarked: "The trunks are safe in the barn. Whenever you need them you can tell Jeb, and he will see that they are carried in for you."

"Thank you, but I shall have them taken back to Oak Creek to-morrow as I have no idea of remaining to spoil my summer," returned Barbara haughtily.

Mr. Brewster made no reply but excused himself and went out to the wide steps of the front porch where he sat down to watch the peaceful twilight as it crept slowly over the mountain peaks.

Here, the rest of the family soon joined him, and the wonderful western night, as the brilliant stars sparkled seemingly so near to earth, had its soothing effect on the perturbed hearts and minds of all present. When Mrs. Brewster finally mentioned that it was bed-time the individuals in the group felt more amiably disposed towards each other.

Anne Stewart was awake bright and early in the morning and, finding the sisters sleeping soundly, crept out to enjoy the invigorating breezes blowing down from the mountain-peaks.

Some time later, Eleanor sat up and rubbed her eyes, at a loss to remember where she was. After a moment, however, she saw the sofa and laughed merrily.

"Oh, won't you be quiet! What is the matter with you?" complained
Barbara, sleepily.

"Nothing—I feel so alive! Get up and hear the birds sing," replied
Eleanor, springing out of bed and running over to the window.

"Oh, Bob! Look at the dazzling mountain-peaks, over there! I suppose these cool breezes come straight from those ice-tops," exclaimed Eleanor.

"I may as well get up or you'll cause a riot of noise," answered
Barbara, querulously.

"Of course I will. I slept so well that I could dance on a trapeze just now. How did you sleep?"

"Why—what does it matter to you?" countered Barbara peevishly.

"Matter? Why, that bed removes one of the obstacles to your remaining here," laughed Eleanor, triumphantly.

Barbara would not admit that she had never slept better nor would she prevaricate, so she merely said: "I am going to Oak Creek the moment we finish breakfast and wire father's bank for money."

"Might as well find out, first, if you can use the team and wagon. Jeb only goes to town when anything has to be had here or shipped away by train. A trip of twelve miles is not a trifle every day in the week," remarked Eleanor.

"I'll ride a horse to Oak Creek myself. I'll not stand this awful place another day!" declared Barbara.

"You can't ride a horse without its owner's permission."

"Besides," added Eleanor as an afterthought occurred to her, "you only have your new traveling suit and the little light summer frock here. The trunks are going back to Oak Creek to-day, you said, and your riding habit is in one of them."

Barbara made no reply to this statement and Eleanor drew on her stockings and then sought for her shoes which she had playfully aimed at Anne Stewart the night previous. One was found by the bureau and the other was seen under the window. She ran over to pick up the one by the window.

"Oh, Bob! Come here quick!"

"What is it?" cried Barbara, hastily running over to join her sister.

"My! The sun has just touched those snow-covered peaks! I never saw anything so dazzlingly beautiful!" sighed Eleanor, lost in contemplation of the sight.

Barbara also stood watching the sun-beams glancing over the towering peaks, and then she said apologetically:

"I never said the scenery wasn't wonderful. It is! But one cannot thrive on mountains, or associate with views."

"Still, it goes a long way towards creating environment, while the atmosphere and friendships are up to the individual," retorted Eleanor.

"Oh, well, you have the knack of making friends with any one, but I am more reserved and ideal in nature, so I simply cannot accommodate myself to such people and places as this!"

"No, but you can accommodate yourself to some empty-headed society youth who hangs over your hotel-piazza chair and tells foolish fibs to feed your vanity!" scorned Eleanor.

Another sisterly scene might have ensued had not Anne entered the room at this critical time.

"Girls, better hurry and finish dressing as breakfast is almost ready to serve," said she, after a pleasant morning greeting.

"How long have you been up?" asked Barbara.

"Oh, an hour or more. I succeeded in working out a scheme I had to make things pleasanter for every one, and I want you to hurry and approve of it."