"Oh, you are so dreadfully matter-of-fact, Mary Lee," said Nan descending from her raptures. "Let's talk about Ramona and the missions, Aunt Helen. Do you suppose there was really a Ramona? I like to think so."
"We can pretend there was even if there wasn't," answered her aunt. She was always ready to humor Nan's imagination. "We'll give her the benefit of the doubt and Allessandro, too. The fact that the Camulos ranch still exists and is the very spot where the scene of Mrs. Jackson's story is laid, makes it seem very real."
As they approached the place, Nan grew fidgety. She stood up every few minutes and craned her neck to see the low adobe house made so famous by the writer. At last there it was with its broad verandas; there was the inner court open on the east, there the room occupied by Ramona. On the south veranda Felipe had rested while Allessandro played upon his violin. Yonder to the west was the little chapel and there hung the three old bells brought from Spain so long ago. On the east side of the garden a long arbor led to the little brook where Ramona's lover first beheld her washing the altar cloth. All these sights gave thrills to the girls and indeed their elders were not unmoved. The señorita felt at home on what to her seemed Spanish soil and the others felt as if they had stepped back into a past age.
Courteously the family invited them to remain as long as it suited them, and even offered to entertain them at the next meal. Dinner they had taken on the way, and though it was a great temptation to remain under the historic roof, the travelers felt that it would be an imposition to linger beyond such time as they might satisfy their interest in H. H's lovely story. Therefore when they had given a proper amount of time to examining the various places they left the old house set in among its great vineyards, olive groves and orange trees, and resumed their journey to Santa Barbara which they hoped to reach before night.
The beautiful Santa Clara valley with its river meadows still green and lovely, was a pleasant place to travel through or to linger in, and Miss Helen declared that they must take a more leisurely journey through it, and perhaps spend some time at Santa Barbara when they should be journeying toward the north.
Nan's raptures had subsided under the sight of realities and for some time she sat silently dreaming, following Ramona through her sad experiences, but suddenly a sharp report made her spring to her feet and indeed caused every one to give an alarmed exclamation. The automobile came to a standstill. Carter clambered down and looked contemplatively at one of the tires. "The blamed old thing has busted," he said. "There's something else wrong, too," he went on. "I don't know just what till I examine. I'm afraid there is no Santa Barbara to-night. Let me see; we've probably come ten or twelve miles since we left Camulos." He took out his road map and looked it over. "The nearest town must be Santa Paula—everything is Santa something out here—I don't see anything to do but to get help there." He looked about him. "Will you ladies stay in the car or will you go to that house I see yonder through the trees? I fancy it is a bee ranch, for you can see the white beehives."
"I thought they were sheep," said Jack.
"Beehives," Carter declared. "It looks like rather a nice place. Must be the owner is making a success out here; they don't all do it by a long shot. I wish we were nearer San Buenaventura; you could pass away the time at the old mission church there, but there is no help for it. Shall we try the house or would you rather walk to the next railway station? We might get a train there for Santa Barbara."
"Is it far to the station?" asked Mrs. Corner.
"I don't know exactly. We are between Sespe and Santa Paula and they are seven miles apart; I judge it could not be less than two or three miles."