“That’s right, ma’am. No chance for more than a peck at a railroad sandwich–tough critters, them!”
“Ah! here is Tom Cameron,” she said, having parted the portières and found Tom just passing through the hall. “Mr. Hicks, Tom. Nita’s uncle.”
“Er–Mr. Bill Hicks, of the Silver Ranch!” ejaculated Tom.
“So you’ve hearn tell of me, too, have you, younker?” quoth the ranchman, good-naturedly. “Well, my fame’s spreadin’.”
“And it seems that I am the only person here who did not know all about your niece,” said Miss Kate Stone, drily.
“Oh, no, ma’am!” cried Tom. “It was only Ruth and Helen and I who knew anything about it. And we only suspected. You see, we found the newspaper article which told about that bully ranch, and the fun that girl had––”
“Jane Ann didn’t think ’twas nice enough for her,” grunted the ranchman. “She wanted high-heeled slippers–and shift–shift-on hats–and a pianner! Common things warn’t good enough for Jane Ann.”
Ruth laughed, for she wasn’t at all afraid of the big Westerner. “If chiffon hats and French heeled slippers would have kept Nita–I mean, Jane Ann–at home, wouldn’t it have been cheaper for you to have bought ’em?” she asked.
“It shore would!” declared the cattleman, emphatically. “But when the little girl threatened to run away I didn’t think she meant it.”
Meanwhile Miss Kate had asked Tom to take the big man up stairs where he could remove the marks of travel. In half an hour he was at the table putting away a breakfast that made even Mammy Laura open her eyes in wonder.