“I knew it would make you feel better. But now, let me see these algebra problems. I took it up a little when—when Professor Payton was at the ranch.”
“You didn’t!” cried Flossie, in wonder.
“Let me see them,” pursued her cousin, nodding.
She had told the truth—as far as she went. After Professor Payton had left the ranch and Helen had gone to Denver to school, she had showed a marked taste for mathematics and had been allowed to go far ahead of her fellow-pupils in that study.
Now, at a glance, she saw what was the matter with Flossie’s attempts to solve the problems. She slipped into a seat beside the younger girl again and, in a few minutes, showed Flossie just how to solve them.
“Why, Helen! I didn’t suppose you knew so much,” said Flossie, in surprise.
“You see, that is something I had a chance to learn between times—when I wasn’t roping cows or breaking ponies,” said Helen, drily.
“Humph! I don’t believe you did either of those vulgar things,” declared Flossie, suddenly.
“You are mistaken. I do them both, and do them well,” returned Helen, gravely. “But they are not vulgar. No more vulgar than your sister Belle’s golf. It is outdoor exercise, and living outdoors as much as one can is a sort of religion in the West.”
“Well,” said Flossie, who had recovered her breath now. “I don’t care what you do outdoors. You can do algebra in the house! And I’m real thankful to you, Cousin Helen.”