By this time Captain Dan Rugley was able to hobble out upon the veranda, and was sitting there in his old, straight-backed chair when the cavalcade rode up. He hailed Mrs. Edwards, and welcomed her and her young friends as heartily as it was his nature so to do.
“Come in, all of you!” he shouted. “Ming will bring out a pitcher of something cool to drink in a minute; and San Soo can throw together a luncheon that’ll keep you from starving to death before you get back to Bill’s place.”
He would not listen to refusals. The Mexican boys took the ponies away and a round dozen of visitors settled themselves–like a covey of prairie chickens–about the huge porch.
Frances welcomed everybody quietly, but with a smile. She instructed Ming to set tables in the inner court of the hacienda, as it would be both cool and shady there on this hot noontide.
She noticed that Sue Latrop scarcely bowed to her, and immediately set about chattering to two or three of her companions. Frances did not mind for herself; but she saw that the girl from Boston seemed amused by Captain Rugley’s talk, and was not well-bred enough to conceal her amusement.
The old ranchman was not dull in any particular, however; before long he found an opportunity to say to his daughter:
“Who’s the girl in the fancy fixin’s? That red coat’s got style to it, I reckon?”
“If you like the style,” laughed Frances, smiling tenderly at him.
“You don’t? And I see she doesn’t cotton much to you, Frances. What’s the matter?”
“She’s Eastern,” explained Frances, briefly. “I imagine she thinks I am crude.”